


Rise

by Lunar_Pull



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunar_Pull/pseuds/Lunar_Pull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a story for the faint of heart. Set in an Alternate Universe where slavery is the law of the land, five men experience horror, tragedy and flashes of limitless joy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
 

The roar of the crowd is deafening, thousands of individual voices coalesce into a single animalistic scream. The sun is high in the sky, the noonday heat is unbearable and it is only making the crowd angrier, their cry for blood louder.

 

He’s never been so overwhelmed by sound in his life. He blinks away the sweat pouring down his face. His arms tremble a bit and he subconsciously scratches under his metal collar.

 

“Seungri,” His master snaps at him, “Don’t touch it.”

 

His master’s voice is deadly calm but Seungri can hear the underlying threat. Slaves aren’t supposed to call attention to what they are. It’s impolite.

 

He’s not new at this so he should know better. Seungri’s been a slave his entire life. He was born in a slave colony, a horrid metal encampment that churns out thousands of specially trained, docile humans to be bought by the wealthiest of men and women.  Seungri has been trained in a certain skill, like thousands of his unfortunate brethren.

 

Seungri is a healer. The best medic from his encampment despite being only seventeen years old and his master paid top dollar for his life because he’s got two enormous investments that he needs to protect: he owns the two best slave warriors on the planet.

 

A loud gunshot signals the beginning of the battle and Seungri’s hands settle at his sides again. He takes deep breaths, trying to relax. His eyes scan the arena below him, searching for the fighters. The battleground is rocky and treacherous, made of hard earth that often ends up scarring the fighters as often as their opponents. There are large, sharp rocks jutting out of the ground, to reduce visibility and make the entire ordeal that much more dangerous for the fighters. And exciting for the blood-thirsty masses.

 

Seungri’s only ever heard of these battles before, he’s never been to one. The slave colony he came from specializes on medical training but he knows that there are a variety of skills a slave can be taught. Entertainment. Battle. Sex.

 

Anything the corrupt human mind can think of.

 

Of all the possibilities, Seungri thinks battle training must be the worst. Most of the fights end in death.

 

A hush falls over the crowd as the gates are opened and two men enter the arena.

 

They look like supernatural creatures. The first one--the thin and taller one--disappears almost instantly, hiding amongst the rocks in a way that seems suspiciously like fear. There is little time for Seungri to register what the first warrior looks like, but the sight of the other is forever seared into his memory. He has thick, symmetrical black lines tattooed all over his tanned chest, shoulders and arms. His hair is shaped into an unnaturally white mohawk and Seungri wonders if this is an intimidation technique.

 

 _He doesn’t need it_ , he thinks.

 

The warrior has intense dark eyes and a confident and slow gait. His brows are drawn together and his chest is rising and falling rapidly, as if he’s desperate for blood. He looks like a devil.

 

Seungri gulps.

 

“That’s Taeyang,” His master informs Seungri. The strange tone in his voice makes the young slave squirm. “It means sun.”

 

Seungri nods dutifully to show that he’s paying attention but his eyes never stray from the man below--this Taeyang.

 

Two other fighters enter the arena. They  are much larger than Taeyang and his partner, but their eyes dart around nervously and it’s obvious that they are frightened. Seungri thinks that they are probably prisoners sentenced to death since their clothes are ragged and they don’t have the physical build of fighters. He still sympathizes with their plight; the man facing them is truly terrifying and the crowd is on his side. They scream louder at every involuntary flex of muscle, every time he balls his hands into fists as he waits patiently for the two prisoners to make a move.

 

There are a tense few moments of anticipation before the larger of the two prisoners finally moves and it’s all over in an instant. He tries to punch Taeyang but the lean warrior dodges it easily, grabs his arm and and twists it harshly. The sickening crunch of bones somehow rings out above the roar of voices and Seungri gasps and shuts his eyes.

 

When he opens them a few seconds later, the prisoner is lying motionless in the sand, blood pooling under his body as Taeyang stands above him, looking down at him. Seungri doesn’t know what could have possibly happened in the few moments his eyes were closed because the prisoner is now but a shell of human, bruised and body bent at an impossible angle, clearly lifeless.

 

Seungri is woefully unprepared for the moment he catches Taeyang’s gaze. They stare at each other, frozen in the moment and Seungri swears that time itself stops because he can no longer hear the crowd, he can no longer see anything but this fearsome warrior and his dark eyes, the blood splattered on his chest.

 

Seungri’s breath catches in his throat and he wonders if this is what they mean when they say looks can kill.

 

His master clears his throat and the moment is broken.

 

The second prisoner screams in grief and rage, lunges at Taeyang who seems curiously unconcerned. He is still staring at Seungri, back turned towards his attacker.

 

Faster than Seungri’s brain can process, the remaining prisoner has been tackled to the ground by a blur. Taeyang stays still but turns his head towards the violence behind him.

 

The other warrior--the one who disappeared as soon as he entered the arena--is a tornado of shrieks and grunts devouring the helpless prisoner beneath him. Seungri’s not sure what’s more terrifying: the sheer ruthlessness of the thin slave or the way Taeyang watches over it, disinterested.

 

“And that...” His master’s mouth curls into a cruel smile as the words leave his lips, _“That_ is the Dragon.”

 

Seungri’s eyes are glued to the scene despite the way his breath is coming so fast he feels like he might hyperventilate. The crowd cheers on the brutal display. This is the undeniable truth about being a slave. You are nothing more than entertainment for the general masses and if you step out of line you’ll end up torn to shreds.

 

By your own kind.

 

It’s disgusting and it makes Seungri feel so hopeless but he refuses to look away. He’s lived his life in the relatively safe confines of his colony but he’s in the real world now and something inside him is growing--a seed of stubbornness planted by a warrior’s fierce gaze.

 

It’s surreal, really, the way that Taeyang seems to sense that Seungri is thinking of him because he looks up again. His full lips purse and his eyes narrow as he notices that Seungri’s eyes have not strayed from the attack happening just behind him. His eyebrows furrow and for a fraction of a moment he is human. He looks at Seungri curiously, maybe even a bit impressed at the young slave’s nerve...

 

And just as quickly, he is a wild creature again, turning his back on the crowd and jumping into the cruel attack behind him.

 

It’s over in minutes.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

When Seungri meets the infamous Dragon, he is expecting a wild creature.

 

The overseer of his master’s elaborate slave holding cells is a trusted slave named Daesung. He smiles widely at Seungri but there is a blankness in his eyes that betrays him. He scratches at his own collar, too.

 

“I hope you’re good,” Daesung says in a sing-song voice, keys jingling as he unlocks the heavy door to the Dragon’s cell, “they get hurt a lot.”

 

Seungri’s head snaps up at the strange tone in the larger man’s voice but he doesn’t have time to process his statement before the door is shut behind him.

 

He hears a thin chuckle from the other side of the cell and the Dragon slinks out of the shadows and into the weak column of light in the center of the room. “Well, well, well, who do we have here?”

 

The Dragon’s voice is higher than Seungri expected and the smirk that graces his face is intimidating but the young slave will not be shaken. He makes his hands into fists and straightens his shoulders.

 

“I’m here to help. I’m your new medic.” Seungri is surprised and pleased at the steadiness of his voice.

 

The Dragon only smirks wider. “Do you know what happened to our last medic?”

 

Seungri takes an involuntary step back at his words and the Dragon takes control of the situation seamlessly, walking closer to Seungri until the medic’s back is pressed against the wall.

 

“No,” Seungri says, breaking out into a cold sweat.

 

The Dragon’s face is so close to Seungri he can feel his hot breath and he hopes that Daesung is on the other side of the door so that he can hear his screams and intervene before this animal rips out his throat.

 

“That’s too bad, I’ve been wondering where he went.”

 

Seungri eyes fly open--he didn’t even notice he’d closed them in the first place--as he realizes that the voice is coming from farther away. Now the dragon is sitting on his bed, a gentle smile on his face as he pats the spot next to him.

 

“I’m Jiyong,” he says and he seems like a completely different person and Seungri is so confused that his head is spinning but he takes the seat and opens his bag of equipment.

 

“You’re kind of young for a medic,” the dragon--no, Jiyong--remarks, his legs crossed and bouncing idly. “How old are you?”

 

“Seventeen. But I was the best in my colony.”

 

“Ahh,” Jiyong says, “you’re from one of those, huh? That’s a damn shame.”

 

It is then that Seungri notices that Jiyong has a slight accent, and definitely different mannerisms that anyone he’s ever known. His hair is dyed a pale blonde color, close-cropped on the sides and longer at the top of his head. The unnatural style is much like his fighting partner and suddenly the strange adorning tattoos that litter their bodies, their accents, the unique fighting method starts to make sense. Jiyong and Taeyang are probably from one of the last tribes of desert nomads, just recently brought under complete subjugation by the Republic.

 

The realization brings a sharp tug at Seungri’s heart. He was raised to do this, to be owned, but Jiyong and Taeyang were just unlucky.

 

“So you are both from the same tribe?” Seungri asks. Curiosity has always been his greatest flaw.

 

“Not just a tribe,” Jiyong says, “We had a home. A culture. Now it’s all gone.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Seungri says, hands folded in his laps and eyes glued to the floor.

 

Jiyong smiles and ruffles Seungri’s hair. “It’s not your fault, maknae,” he says and Seungri wants to ask him what it means but Jiyong is already speaking again so Seungri figures there’ll be time enough later.

 

“What kind of a medic are you, just sitting there! You gonna fix my arm or not?”

 

Seungri smiles widely because he can just _feel_ the affection underneath the sarcastic tone and he blooms with it, basks in the scraps of attention and care thrown his way because his life is always so empty and lonely and there’s something about this paradox of a man that is making him feel like he matters.

 

He leans down and fishes out gauze and alcohol from his bag, gets to work on the tender wound on Jiyong’s bicep.

 

“You were warriors, then?” Seungri asks, jerking a bit when Jiyong lets out a sharp hiss as the alcohol touches his skin. “That’s how you learned to fight?”

 

“No, we weren’t. We learned to fight in the pit.”

 

“The pit?”

 

“The damn arena.”

 

“What were you then? Before this?”

 

“Something else.”

 

“Wha--”

 

“Did you ask my brother this many questions?” Jiyong interrupts and Seungri sucks in a breath at that.

 

“You don’t look like brothers.”

 

“You don’t have to be from the same parents to be brothers,” Jiyong’s responds sagely, like his reasoning makes perfect sense.

 

Seungri wraps the gauze around the wound tightly and doesn’t look at Jiyong in the face. His mind is filled with images of Taeyang and his monstrous display just hours ago. He thinks of the thick, black lines that adorn his muscular arms and chest, his intense eyes scanning the arena as he searched for the enemy. The way he had taken a man’s life with his bare hands without a single thought. The way that their eyes had met from such a great distance--Taeyang in the sand and Seungri standing in the balcony next to both their Master--and Seungri had just _known_ that the blonde warrior was looking right at him and and it made him feel…

 

It made him feel.

 

“You haven’t been to see my brother yet, have you?” Jiyong’s voice brings Seungri out of his thoughts as he finishes securing the gauze around his arm. “That’s why you’re asking all these questions.”

 

Before he gets a chance to reply, A loud clanking sound signals that Daesung is back. He stands at the door and waits for Seungri to gather his supplies.

 

“Hey, you never told me your name,” Jiyong says offhandedly.

 

“Seungri,” the medic replies, voice cracking a bit.

 

Jiyong leans back on his small cot and grins at Seungri. “Oh, he’ll _like_ you.”

 

Seungri gulps and turns to leave. He hears Jiyong call out a thank you before the door is slammed shut again.

 

“Not too bad, right?” Daesung teases as he leads them to the next cell.

 

Seungri doesn’t respond, not trusting his voice, panic rising in his chest as he realizes that his destination is right here. Taeyang had been so close this whole time, just on the other side of the wall and suddenly he feels overwhelmed because somehow he knows that this man will bring him nothing but tragedy.

  
Daesung opens the door. Seungri walks into the darkness.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Slaves don’t think about the future.

 

The future is either more pain or the blankness of death and both options are equally terrifying so Seungri has tried most of his life to not think any further than the next day’s tasks. If he had thought about the future in any way, shape or form, he certainly would have never imagined that he’d one day end up kissing the warrior slave known as Taeyang.

 

Seungri honestly doesn’t know how this happened.

 

A few months ago, he had stepped into the warrior’s cell and discovered that the man was nothing like the beast.

 

His name is Youngbae and he makes Seungri’s heart flutter helplessly just by glancing his way. His name is Youngbae and he is naturally quiet, content to let Seungri talk endlessly while he gazes on with a slight smile. His name is Youngbae and Seungri is pretty sure that he’s either suffering from the early stages of a heart condition or that he’s falling into that most dangerous emotion for a slave, love.

 

His name is Youngbae.

 

He insists that Seungri call him by his real name and Seungri complies although he doesn’t understand the significance. Slave name or not, Youngbae’s smile is still the sun.

 

He always asks Seungri what he wants, what he needs. He pulls him close and whispers questions in his ear and it makes Seungri crazy but even worse than that--it makes him think.

 

The first time they kissed, it was after one of their nightly conversations. Seungri visits both warrior brothers often, regardless of whether they’ve been injured or not. It is how he learns that Jiyong used to be a poet and that after more than ten years in captivity, Youngbae still dreams of returning to his people. He visits Youngbae last, so that he can pretend to be too tired to walk back to his own cell, located on the other side of the complex.

 

Daesung does a great job of pretending not to notice. There is something soft in his eyes whenever he leaves him with Youngbae and Seungri always forgets to ask him why he is so good to them.

 

When Seungri had placed that soft peck on Youngbae’s lips, the blonde warrior had looked so shocked that the medic had wondered if he had misinterpreted everything. But then, Youngbae’s strong hands had found the back of his head and lead their lips to clash together roughly and the rest was a blur.

 

They haven’t moved past kissing, for the most part, and although Seungri appreciates the restraint Youngbae is showing, his mind has been filled with all the bad things he wants the warrior to do to him. He is a seventeen year old boy, after all.

 

Youngbae always pulls Seungri’s hands out of his pants, pushes his shoulders back gently when the younger slave gets too eager. He doesn’t want to take what he calls Seungri’s purity but the younger man calls bullshit on that because lately the warrior has taken to getting on his knees and wrapping his lips around Seungri’s dick in a way that is most definitely not pure.

 

Seungri thinks he just doesn’t want whatever is happening between them to become too much. They’re traveling down a dangerous path. Jiyong and Daesung are good people but if anyone else finds out about them, their punishment could be death. 

 

A slave can only have one master.

 

Seungri finds it hard to care, though, when he’s shoved up against the wall with Youngbae’s mouth latched on to his neck and his toned thigh shoved between his legs. He’s grinding down, craving the friction, as one of his hands clutches at Youngbae’s tattooed shoulders and the other is tangled in his slicked down, bleached mohawk.

 

“Please,” he begs and he hates and loves the little laugh that Youngbae lets out.

 

“Always so eager, maknae,” he rasps, the words spoken against Seungri’s ear. The way he says it is so different from Jiyong’s affectionate teasing and it makes Seungri groan. He still doesn’t know what it means.

 

Youngbae starts to drop to his knees but Seungri stops him. “No, not that. Not tonight.”

 

The warrior’s face drops and Seungri leans down a bit to kiss the hurt away. When he pulls back, Seungri looks straight into Youngbae’s eyes and the words tumble awkwardly out of his mouth, “I want you to fuck me.”

 

The word _want_ is still new to the young slave.

 

Youngbae’s eyes widen. The corner of his mouth lifts a bit into a small, prideful smile but Seungri can see him battling with himself, struggling with his desire. He lets Seungri go, walks to the far side of the cell where his tiny bed is located and sits down.

 

“You know that I can’t do that.”

 

“Why?” Seungri’s voice cracks, “I know what I’m asking for. I’m not a baby.”

 

“I know that, it’s just--”

 

Seungri tugs off his shirt as he stalks across the cell, determined. He climbs into Youngbae’s lap when he reaches the bed and grinds his hips down, rubbing their still clothed erections together roughly as he bites at plump, pink lips.

 

“Fuck me,” he groans out, and even though Youngbae keeps saying no, his hands are holding onto Seungri’s hips, securing him in place, fingers digging into skin so hard he knows there’ll be bruises. This is what Seungri wants--to feel the violence of Youngbae’s hands and lips and every single part of his body that he’s only been allowed to look at but not touch.

 

“I’ve been practicing. Jiyong’s told me everything I need to do and I’ve been stretching my--”

 

“Stop,” Youngbae commands, his hands finally stilling the motion of Seungri’s hips. “Why did you talk to him about this?”

 

“Because he’s my friend,” Seungri answers, and he sits down on Youngbae’s lap, knowing there’ll have to be more talking before he can get what he needs.

 

Youngbae’s brows furrow together but he seems touched at the closeness of Jiyong and Seungri. Seungri knows all of his facial expressions by now. He’s spent every moment they’re together trying to memorize him.

 

There’s silence for a few moments. Youngbae never speaks without thinking and while Seungri loves and admires this, he’s also feeling desperate.

 

“You almost died today, Youngbae.”

 

The warrior doesn’t respond. Just sighs and leans into Seungri so that their foreheads are touching.

 

“If Jiyong hadn’t been there, that other slave would have bashed your head in with that rock and I would have had to watch it all. Watch you die and know that there’s nothing I can do about it.” Tears are welling up in Seungri’s eyes but he wants to be strong, as strong as his lover.

 

“That’s exactly why we can’t,” Youngbae sighs.

 

“You’re wrong,” Seungri says, cupping Youngbae’s face in his hands, “It’s why we should.”

 

Youngbae clicks his tongue and kisses Seungri softly. His resolve is crumbling; Seungri can tell by the soft kisses he pecks all over the younger boy’s face even as he protests.

 

“It’s more than that,” Youngbae says so quietly Seungri almost doesn’t hear him.  

 

“You don’t want to get too close to me.”

 

Youngbae only nods his affirmation. Seungri pulls his face close and kisses him with abandon, tongue probing the other man’s mouth. He starts to roll his hips again and Youngbae lets him, moaning his pleasure into their kiss. They are back in the rhythm, back to lips sliding, pulling each other close, touching each other like they’re afraid the other is going to disappear.

 

“Why?” Seungri asks and it comes out as a pained whimper.

 

Their lips meet again and Seungri notices that Youngbae’s control is slipping away faster now. His kisses are sharp bites and his hands are now moving the medic’s hips for him. “Because I’ll destroy you.”

 

Seungri groans, letting Youngbae’s fingers dig deeper. The warrior sucks a bruise into his collar bone and grinds their hips together at an almost frantic pace and Seungri says the most honest thing he can think of.

 

“I _want_ you to.”

 

When Youngbae loses control, Seungri decides there is a God. The warrior’s eyes go dark with lust and suddenly, Seungri’s back is pressed into the bed and Youngbae is almost ripping the younger slave’s pants off of him. He slips out of his own pants, never breaking eye contact and Seungri feels a jolt of desire shudder through him because it’s finally happening. After all the sweet, tentative kisses, falling asleep in each other’s arms and soft touches, Seungri feels no fear.

 

Youngbae all but jumps back into the bed, slotting himself between Seungri’s legs and kissing the life out of him. Seungri feels a pang of worry at the warrior’s aggression. This does not feel like his soft-hearted Youngbae. This is the fierce Taeyang, barely containing his strength as his hands roam all over Seungri’s thinner body. It doesn’t matter. Seungri can think of no better way to die than by the hands of this man.

 

Seungri expects pain when Youngbae’s finger finds its way to his entrance, but suddenly, the warrior’s crazed pace slows and he is so tender and careful with this part that Seungri aches. He feels like he’s going to burst because _of course_ this is his Youngbae and _of course_ he will never hurt him and what in the world did Seungri ever do to deserve this?

 

Seungri has been stretching himself all day in preparation for this moment but he still lets Youngbae take his time until he’s satisfied. There’s a certain way the warrior crooks his fingers that makes him shudder with pleasure and when Youngbae figures this out, he doesn’t stop doing it until Seungri has to beg him.

 

Seungri hands Youngbae a small bottle of oil and the face the warrior makes--a single eyebrow raised and lips pursed in disbelief--is priceless. He giggles at the sight until Youngbae kisses him again, rolls his sinful hips again, brings him back to the moment and then refuses to go any further until Seungri finally confesses that yes--the bottle came from Jiyong.

 

Youngbae chuckles, low in his throat, as he slicks up his thick length and slips between Seungri’s parted legs again. He lines himself up with the younger man’s entrance and looks down at him, still waiting for a sign that they don’t need to go this far. Seungri wraps his arms around his shoulders and pushes against him, a broken _please_ leaving his lips.

 

The warrior slips in slowly, lets Seungri get adjusted to the stretch and the burn and when he is finally buried inside the younger man’s body, he lets out a deep growl as he struggles to stay still. The sound of his restraint is enough to make Seungri crazy so he starts to roll his hips despite the burn of it because it’s Youngbae; it’s Youngbae inside him and it makes him feel so complete.

 

Youngbae rocks into him, slowly at first. But then, Seungri begs for more, begs for harder and faster and Youngbae gives him just that and more. The force of Youngbae’s hips snapping against him, the push and pull of his cock inside him, the way his eyes are slammed shut and his mouth is slightly parted, it all builds and builds until Seungri feels nothing but the pleasure and his own heart hammering so loudly in his chest.

 

He knows he’s making embarrassing, high-pitched moans and that everyone can probably hear them but he can’t care because Youngbae, Youngbae, Youngbae. So fucking gorgeous and so fucking talented and so damn good in every sense of the word. The kind of man who prays after every battle, not for himself, but for the unfortunate souls he sends into the afterlife. The kind of man whose hands are still gentle, even after everything they’ve been forced to do. He’s filling Seungri up with an emotion he’s never felt in his life and when the warrior dips down and whispers “saranghae” Seungri comes so hard he swears he sees stars.

 

When Seungri opens his eyes, Youngbae’s already come and he’s looking down at him with the dopiest look on his face. Seungri’s sure he looks the exact same way.

 

He pulls Youngbae down, wraps his sore legs around the warrior tighter because he doesn’t want him to pull out just yet. Wants to make this feeling last a little longer.

 

Youngbae’s buries his face in the crook of Seungri’s shoulder and inhales, long and deep.

 

“What did you say?” Seungri’s asks after a few minutes, after their panting has died down and they have caught their breath.

 

Youngbae coughs, shifts a little. Nervously. “It means _I love you_.”

 

Seungri tightens his hold on the warrior’s shoulders. “Somehow I knew that.”

 

He can feel Youngbae’s soft sigh and the way his lips curve into a smile against the skin of his neck. Seungri smiles, too, and places a small kiss on the warrior’s forehead.

 

No, slaves should never think about the future. But Seungri decides at this moment that he is going to chase this feeling for the rest of his life. He will follow Youngbae wherever he leads.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Jiyong is his master’s most prized possession.

 

The masses adore the Dragon and Taeyang. They love the way they fight like animals, the way they are simply invincible. They love when they strategize; the Dragon always using the element of surprise to confuse while Taeyang uses stamina and sheer force to beat down their opponents. The crowds grow even wilder when the two warriors move in unison. Sometimes, their movements are so synchronized that it almost seems like a dance.

 

But men _love_ the Dragon. They love his slim figure, his narrow hips, his daring smile. They fall left and right when he levels a steady gaze at them, defiance and hatred pouring out of him. They fantasize about his perfect bow of a mouth, permanently tousled hair. They want him writhing beneath them and they pay exorbitant amounts of money for just one night.

 

Of  course, the Dragon is never owned. Being in the bedroom with him is the same thing as the arena. He bites and scratches and flails until he’s the one on top, he’s the one in control and he fucks the rich bastards so hard they can’t walk straight for a week. He fucks them because he hates them and it’s the only thing he can do.

 

They eat it up.

 

They come back begging for more.

 

Which is why his master treasures him above all, because he brings in enough money on his own to double all that he makes just by betting on the two warriors and then some. And his master cares about nothing more than money.

 

So when Jiyong walks into the mansion late at night, flanked by two guards, he knows exactly why his master summoned him.

 

He expects to walk into a dimly lit room where a man will try to wrestle him from behind. He is expecting another fight for dominance. His nerves are on fire.

 

Instead, he finds his Master in his lavish living room next to a tall, well-dressed man with expressive eyes.

 

“My Dragon,” his master purrs and Jiyong feels his stomach turn into knots as he bows, “I want you to meet someone very important. Very special.”

 

Jiyong eyes shift to the man beside his master. He looks chic and confident but the way he keeps looking anywhere but at Jiyong is a dead giveaway. The man is nervous.

 

“This is Choi Seung Hyun. His father is a very important investor in our company and he is here to make sure everything checks out, that everything is alright.”

 

Jiyong knows exactly what his master wants him to do. He wants him to lie. He wants him to do whatever it takes to keep this little rich boy quiet and happy. Jiyong wants to kill them both where they stand. He probably could, if it weren’t for his chains…

 

“I’ve got some business to attend to but I’ll leave you two alone,” he smiles fakely before beckoning the guards.

 

They are alone and neither man moves. Jiyong is still on edge, expecting this man to suddenly attack him like all the others.

 

“Would you like to have a seat?”

 

Jiyong is not sure what shocks him more: the polite form in which the man speaks or the deep rumble of his voice.

 

Jiyong swallows hard and narrows his eyes in response.

 

“I’ve never been alone with a slave before,” Seung Hyun says thoughtfully, “Especially not a famous one.”

 

Jiyong smiles at the comment, despite himself. He has heard that Taeyang and himself have earned quite a following. He wonders what they will do when one of them dies. Will they mourn or will they move on to the next champion?

 

Jiyong’s eyes follow the tall man as he turns his back on him to pour himself a drink. It makes him angry that this man can turn his back to him with no consequence when Jiyong has to live his life in constant alert. Especially around spoiled brats like him.

 

Seung Hyun holds out a glass for Jiyong to take. The slave responds with silence. He notices that the man keeps glancing at his collar.

 

“So I hear this is the best place for a slave,” Seung Hyun says as he sets the glass down again, seemingly undeterred by Jiyong’s attitude. “Great facilities, the best training. The opportunity to earn your freedom.”

 

Jiyong scoffs, unable to hold back his tongue. It’s his greatest weakness.

 

“No one in this place has ever gotten out,” he spits out, “Unless it was by being buried in the ground.”

 

Seung Hyun eyes go wide, probably because he’s never been talked to this way before. Jiyong revels in it.

 

“Besides, it doesn’t matter. He still owns us. He can do whatever he wants to us, he can let anyone use us--”

 

“He is cruel, then?” Seung Hyun interrupts and it makes Jiyong stop dead in his tracks because if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear there’s real concern in the man’s question.

 

“Why do you care?” he grits through his teeth as he faces the taller man dead on, chin raised in defiance.

 

“No one should hurt you,” Seung Hyun mumbles and Jiyong knows his face must be showing the confusion he feels because he continues to explain. “I’ve watched you in the arena before. Often, actually. You’re amazing but…”

 

“But what?” Jiyong prompts. He is intoxicated with the way this man lets him ask him questions and raise his voice.

 

“No one deserves something like that. You don’t deserve that.”

 

Jiyong is frozen by this strange man’s words and by the way he openly stares at him now, gaze intense and honest. Something about this feels like a trap. In just a few moments, Seung Hyun has turned the tables and Jiyong is reeling, tumbling faster and faster into his web.

 

“You don’t even know me,” Jiyong whispers because his throat seems to have trouble working now.

 

“I want to,” Seung Hyun steps closer slowly, like he’s approaching a skittish animal, “Will you let me?”

 

Suddenly, Jiyong remembers a time when he was a child and his tribe stumbled upon an oasis. An older kid had pushed him into the water and for one terrifying moment, Jiyong thought he’d drown. He had kicked and pushed and fought until a strange feeling of calm had overcome him and it was only broken when he felt his father’s arms lift him up and out of the water.

 

Looking into Seung Hyun's eyes now as he towers over him, Jiyong feels like he’s drowning again.

 

Jiyong almost closes his eyes and gives in until he hears echoes of Youngbae’s voice--always protecting him, even in his own head--telling him to fight.

 

 _Fight, Jiyong!_  he had screamed the first time they entered the arena and something inside Jiyong had snapped.

 

The Dragon had been born.

 

He pushes Seung Hyun away from him hard and the tall man stumbles.

 

“You will _never_ know me,” Jiyong says venomously before stalking out of the room, calling for the guards.

 

Safe in the confines of his cell, Jiyong falls asleep to Youngbae and Seungri’s quiet moans and dreams of drowning.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  
  


Seungri has a beautiful voice.

 

It startled Youngbae, the first time he heard it. He had been wrapped around the younger slave, teetering between awake and asleep after a long day of battle. He didn’t notice the soft humming at first, too caught up in the soothing sensation of Seungri’s fingers stroking his hair.

 

It began as humming, barely audible, but then his voice became louder, caught up in the melody, and suddenly there were words, too. It was Youngbae’s mother tongue--or at least, the few words he had taught Seungri--strung together without a pattern.

 

The sweet sound almost made Youngbae’s eyes tear up. He had awoken fully and placed the lightest kiss on Seungri’s lips. Seungri had smiled and kept singing.

 

Now, Seungri’s song is the only thing that keeps Youngbae’s nightmares away. He suffers from crippling night terrors. He dreams that everyone he’s ever killed comes crawling out of the ground. But they never touch him.

 

They come like shadows and strangle Jiyong before his very eyes. They rip Seungri apart, limb by limb. Youngbae can do nothing but scream and scream into the darkness.

 

He wakes up clutching and shouting, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind struggles to catch up with reality. It is only when he feels arms wrap around him that he realizes he’s awake. It is only Seungri’s song--nonsensical and beautiful--that calms Youngbae’s panic.

 

Seungri is Youngbae’s light. And he drives the warrior absolutely insane. Ever since the first time he allowed himself to give in, Youngbae can think of nothing more that his Seungri. He wants him so much he can’t even think straight sometimes. Jiyong teases him that he’s going to get himself killed. Youngbae doesn’t think it’s funny.

 

He doesn’t think it’s funny that his thoughts drift to the way Seungri’s thighs feel wrapped tight around his torso and the way he throws his head back when he’s getting close, when he should be thinking about how to dodge his sparring partner’s punch.

 

At night, Seungri opens himself up to Youngbae and he is so stunning and honest and Youngbae just wants to keep him in his arms and never emerge from the little piece of heaven they’ve carved for themselves.

 

“Oh my god, Youngbae,” he groans out and the warrior has to keep himself from blasphemous thoughts because Seungri _does_ makes him feel like a god.

 

Seungri loves him and it means everything.

 

He loves him despite all the horrible things he’s done--still has to do. He holds him close and tells him he understands, even though he doesn’t. At least he tries.

 

Seungri loves him so much he learns to say it in his language, practices it when he thinks no one can hear him so that it sounds perfect. Whispers it against his against Youngbae’s ear like a chant until he drifts off to sleep.

 

Seungri has a beautiful voice and a beautiful heart and Youngbae knows that he will never deserve him.

 

 

* * *

 

  

For the next month, Seung Hyun keeps asking to see Jiyong.

 

He never forces himself on him. He only talks to him. Asks questions. And listens.

 

It’s the last action that throws Jiyong off kilter. He doesn’t know what to do with a man who listens to him.

 

And he listens so well. He sits still in his chair as Jiyong screams at him furiously, explains all the horrid things that happen in the complex. He listens when Jiyong tells him about how he’s used as a sex slave, too, expecting Seung Hyun to recoil. Instead, he stands up, looks at him in sorrow and attempts to embrace him.

 

Jiyong lets himself melt into the embrace for only a second before he’s pushing Seung Hyun off, fuming at him, accusing him of crossing boundaries.

 

That is what confuses Jiyong most of all. With Seung Hyun, there are boundaries. Boundaries that he set and that the rich man-- _the free man_ \--respects.

 

Youngbae warns him to be careful. Jiyong tells him everything, tells him about how Seung Hyun looks at him with lust and kindness and how both make him feel lost.

 

Youngbae says that he can’t be trusted. _He’s one of them_ , he whispers as his arm wraps around Jiyong’s neck to bring him closer.

 

Jiyong feels like he’s breaking down. It happens sometimes. Sometimes, Jiyong feels strong like steel and other times, he feels like he’s missing all of his pieces.

 

Youngbae is the only one that can help.

 

Seungri’s smile does the trick for a few hours but then Jiyong’s darkness comes bubbling up again. He feels like it’s just pouring out of him--a sadness and anger that overflows--and it’s only Youngbae’s strong arms and whispers of encouragement in their native tongue that lull him to sleep.

 

He is forever thankful that Seungri lets Jiyong have him at times like these.

 

He knows it can’t be easy, sleeping in the next cell, not know what they’re doing. It’s not that he wants to take Youngbae away, it’s just that he needs him to be calm inside his storm, he needs him to hold him, tell him he will always love him, remind him of their home.

 

He needs him to be the strong one--what he’s always been--so that Jiyong can break down. Youngbae will catch him. He always does.

 

Jiyong is falling apart and for the past few weeks he can only sleep with Youngbae’s arms around his waist and with Seung Hyun on his mind.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

  
  


Seungri realizes just how broken Jiyong is one day when they are watching Youngbae train. They are surrounded by their master’s best fighters, practicing because there is an important battle against trained warriors in just a month, and no one is immune to death.

 

Despite the grim reason they are training, the practice session is rather light. Youngbae and his sparring partner laugh as they jostle each other. Seungri is so wrapped up in watching his lover that he barely registers Jiyong coming up behind him and hugging him. 

 

He laughs when Seungri jumps in surprise and there’s something manic about Jiyong in this moment. Seungri gulps.

 

“He’s beautiful like that, isn’t he?” Jiyong whispers in his ear and it reminds him of a snake.

 

Seungri only nods, catches Daesung’s curious stare from across the room and shrugs.

 

“He really has the best smile, don’t you think?” Jiyong asks, lips brushing against the shell of Seungri’s ear. The younger slave nods again but he’s remembering Youngbae’s warnings. Something about Jiyong’s recklessness and how it can destroy everything. “I love it.”

 

He spins Seungri around roughly so that they are face to face, “And I love _you_.”

 

Jiyong’s eyes are crazed and Seungri is ashamed to feel himself getting hard. “I love you, maknae, because you are magic. He was lost to me, you know. For so long, not a single real smile. And you come along, all sweet brown eyes and tight ass, and he’s back. He’s laughing again. You brought him back from the edge for me and I love you for that.”

 

Seungri doesn’t expect Jiyong to kiss him at that moment. He freezes up, lips pursed and rigid under Jiyong’s warm mouth.

 

Suddenly there are hands pulling them apart and all eyes are on them. It’s awkward and tense and Seungri feels unbearably embarrassed.

 

“Your boy is _soft_ , Youngbae,” Jiyong spits out spitefully as Daesung pulls him roughly out of the training room. Seungri and Youngbae are on his heels. Seungri is so confused, doesn’t understand what’s happening or whether he was in the wrong.

 

Seungri notices that Daesung is rubbing circles into Jiyong’s back, attempting to soothe him. He shares a meaningful look with Youngbae before directing the three slaves into Youngbae’s cell and locking the door.

 

“It was just a kiss,” Jiyong scoffs.

 

“Jiyong, I’m not mad--”

 

“You should be,” Jiyong yells as he shoves Youngbae hard and Seungri feels his heart pounding in his throat.

 

Seeing the Dragon and Taeyang clash is unlike anything Seungri’s ever witnessed before. Jiyong kicks and elbows at Youngbae while the shorter man only dodges the blows. Jiyong suddenly lunges and bites down on the other’s tattooed shoulder when he sees an opening. Youngbae howls in pain and shoves Jiyong away from him. _Hard_.

 

He sends the thinner slave across the room, slamming into the opposite wall. Jiyong’s head makes a sickening thud when it connects with the concrete. He slides down the wall pitifully.

 

“That’s it! Be rough, be rough like _them_. Like all the bastards that pay to touch me,” Jiyong slurs.

 

Youngbae sighs deeply as he rubs at his shoulder, “Is that it, Ji? Is that what you want?”

 

“Just hurt me,” Jiyong grits out before slumping down further.

 

Youngbae approaches him slowly and stands over him. His hands are on his hips, stern and unyielding. When he finally speaks, his voice is harsh.

 

“Jiyong, get up,” he says, “Fight.”

 

Jiyong obeys, stands up slowly. Youngbae refuses to help. “I don’t want to fight, hyung,” he whimpers, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

 

Youngbae’s hands find Jiyong’s hips and he pulls their bodies flush together, brings their faces close. He’s holding Jiyong like a broken doll. “I know.”

 

“You are so soft with him, Youngbae,” Jiyong’s voice is ragged and his breathing is coming in sharp bursts, like he’s trying not to cry.

 

“I can be soft with you, too,” Youngbae brings their foreheads together. “You're mine, remember?”

 

“I'm yours,” Jiyong repeats desperately, “Not his.”

 

“That's right, not his. Not any of those bastards'. Mine.”

 

“Yours,” Jiyong says, “You'll keep me safe.”

 

“Always,” Youngbae lies because there's no way to do that, not in this Hellhole. Seungri loves him for trying. Jiyong does, too.

 

They look like a dream, sweet and affectionate in a way Seungri’s never seen them be with each other before. It doesn’t make him jealous. It arouses him, how tender Youngbae is being, how open Jiyong is at the moment.

 

He knows that the two warriors share a passionate history. Youngbae told him about how they’ve always been close, how they were each other’s first time. How they used to be each other’s everything until the love they felt faded into something more platonic and manageable. _I never felt about him the way I feel about you_ , Youngbae had once reassured him. _You changed me._

 

“No, but you love him,” Jiyong suddenly protests and Seungri realizes that they’re talking about him.

 

“You don’t mind, do you, maknae?” Youngbae looks at him and smiles secretly, places a small kiss on Jiyong’s cheek while keeping eye contact. It’s like he knows that Seungri will do anything for him, anything for them.

 

“No,” Seungri croaks in response because his throat is suddenly parched.

 

“Come here,” Jiyong whispers.

 

Youngbae moves behind Jiyong and rubs his sides, kisses his shoulder blades. Seungri knows how those lips feel, he's been on the receiving end of Youngbae's torturous feather light kisses and he's pretty sure he reacts just like Jiyong, all soft sighs and small whimpers. There's something so vulnerable about Jiyong in this moment and Seungri feels a bit guilty that it turns him on so much. Jiyong is usually an impenetrable wall of bravado and attitude but right now, he's just a man who wants to be touched.

 

Softly.

 

Softly, Seungri tilts Jiyong's chin up and connects their lips. Jiyong sighs into the kiss and it’s so different from the forceful clash of lips from earlier. Now their mouths slide together delicately, their rhythm is slow and unhurried. Jiyong whimpers a bit, probably more because of whatever Youngbae's hands are doing to him.

 

They kiss for what seems like forever, until Jiyong breaks their connection to groan out Youngbae's name. Seungri knows his lover is inside Jiyong. He can feel Jiyong's hips shallowly pumping and he knows Youngbae is the cause. Jiyong's head is resting on Seungri's shoulder. Seungri locks eyes with Youngbae and he loves him so much in this moment. He loves Youngbae because he is such a good man who has such a big heart and there’s room enough for both of them. Seungri kisses him over Jiyong's shoulder.

 

Seungri loses track of the time, but eventually, Youngbae's thrusts speed up and Jiyong's thin hands tighten around Seungri's waist as he calls out his name.

 

“What is it, hyung?” And Youngbae and Jiyong both look at him, surprised. Seungri's always been a quick study. “What do you want?”

 

“I'm close,” Jiyong says, “Kiss me.”

 

So Seungri does. He kisses him thoroughly, grabs his length and pumps in time with Youngbae's thrusts, savors the mewls Jiyong makes. His mouth hangs open when he comes, a shot of white into Seungri's hand.

 

Jiyong pants against Seungri's shoulder and Youngbae's hand cups his cheek gently as he looks into his eyes. He mouths _thank you_ and Seungri just smiles and holds Jiyong tighter.

 

Later on, when the three of them are tangled up in Youngbae's tiny bed and Jiyong begins to sob, Seungri sings to him. Somehow, Seungri knows that this won't happen again so he wants to make it special. Wants to take as much of Jiyong’s hurt as he can.

 

Seungri knows that Jiyong is broken, but he thinks that between him and Youngbae, they can hold the pieces together.

 

At least for a little while.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

  
  


The first time Seung Hyun sees Jiyong, he falls in lust.

 

He watches him fight for his life in the arena from the balcony where the wealthy enjoy the battles, entranced by the motion of his hips and the fire in his eyes.

 

He wants to touch him, his fire. He wants to be burned.

 

Seung Hyun’s always been a strange one.

 

He’s never understood slavery, never got what makes him any different from those forced to toil and labor and entertain. Seung Hyun has spent most of his adult life trying to become a senator in the Republic, so that he can be in the position to put an end to the injustice. Lately, he’s been getting desperate at his lack of progress. He’s been thinking a lot about the more extreme methods of ending slavery. He thinks it’s a deplorable institution and he hates that his father is a part of it.

 

He hates that he himself is a part of it, too.

 

Seung Hyun knows that Jiyong has no choice but to come when he asks for him but he can’t help himself. He needs to see him. Needs to hear that sweet voice, even if it’s high-pitched and screaming or hoarse and growling. He lives for the moments when Jiyong quiets down, when his voice is soft and raw and he confesses that he hates so much, sometimes he feels like it’s going to choke him.

 

Seung Hyun knows his real name now, Jiyong let it slip out one night in a tirade. He loves how the Dragon goes all doe-eyed when he says his true name.

 

Seung Hyun is slowly chipping away at the wall Jiyong’s built. He can feel it crumbling. He’s getting closer, he knows this because Jiyong doesn’t fly off the handle too much anymore. Sometimes, he lets him put his arm around his shoulder while they talk. Lately, he actually blushes at Seung Hyun’s compliments.

 

Seung Hyun lives for those small moments.

 

That’s how he knows it’s love.

 

He knows it’s love because Jiyong makes him nervous, makes him stumble over his words and glance awkwardly at the floor in the way that no woman ever has. He knows it’s love because he wants to treat Jiyong tenderly, wants to wrap him in a warm embrace and protect him from all the horrors he has to face daily.

 

He doesn’t want to fuck Jiyong. He wants to worship him.

 

Seung Hyun knows that he’s in love with Jiyong because he’s willing to risk everything for him. To set him free.

 

He realizes, belatedly, that buying him for the night might give the wrong idea. He doesn’t expect anything from him, Seung Hyun just overheard his master discussing plans to sell him for the night and his blood boiled. So he offered a larger sum of money and bought him instead.

 

Seung Hyun paces around the bedroom, the candlelight casting shadows across his face. He is anxious. He thinks Jiyong might be so angry when he sees him waiting that he won’t listen to his reasoning. He won’t calm down long enough for Seung Hyun to tell him the truth, tell him about how he loves him, tell him--

 

The clicking sound the door makes while opening brings Seung Hyun out of his thoughts. He turns to find that where Jiyong should stand, there is another slave. He has short, dark hair and puffy eyes. He looks absolutely terrified.

 

The guards undo his chains and leave his metal collar. They shove him closer to Seung Hyun before locking the door behind them.

 

Seung Hyun expects the slave to scurry towards a corner as soon as the door closes. Instead, he stands his ground. Seung Hyun is almost impressed, except that the slave is so scared that he’s visibly trembling.

 

“Relax,” Seung Hyun says as kindly as he can manage. “Where’s Ji--I mean, the Dragon?”

 

“Master thinks he needs a break from...this,” the slave’s voice is sweet, almost melodic. Seung Hyun can see why they sent him instead. His hair is dark like coal, his pale skin is unmarked and fresh and young. So young. Too young.

 

“How old are you?” Seung Hyun asks.

 

“I’ll be eighteen in the Fall.” Seung Hyun’s heart breaks.

 

He shakes his head and pours himself a drink. He doesn’t bother offering some to the underaged slave.

 

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Seung Hyun says as he sips his drink, watching the nervous slave carefully.

 

The slave furrows his brows, confused. “Because I’m not the Dragon?”

 

“Because you’re a child,” Seung Hyun rumbles, amused at this slave’s curiosity. “Probably never even had--”

 

“I am _not_ a child,” the slave says suddenly, “And this isn’t my first time.”

 

Seung Hyun’s eyebrow lifts. “You’ve been used as a sex slave before, then?”

 

The slave blinks rapidly, shifts nervously. “No,” he finally admits.

 

Seung Hyun understands now. “Is that so, kid? You’ve got yourself a man?”

 

The young slave frowns. “How do you know it’s a man?”

 

Seung Hyun chuckles, “The female slaves are kept in the house all the time and you’ve been brought from the complex, which I assume means you live there. You spend all your time surrounded by all those warriors…”

 

The slave tenses and Seung Hyun knows he’s right. “Tell me about him.”

 

The slave keeps his mouth shut.

 

“Come on,” Seung Hyun prods, “I won’t tell anyone. You tell me about your love and I’ll tell you about mine.”

 

“What do you know about love?” the young slave spits out and suddenly, his brashness reminds him of Jiyong.

 

“I know it can kill you. Destroy who you think you are. It can change everything you thought you knew and make you want the impossible.”

 

The slave seems stunned. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen.

 

“Have a seat, kid,” Seung Hyun gestures to the wooden chair as he sits on the edge of the plush bed that faces it, “Tell me about your man.”

 

“Please don’t call me that,” the slave says, frowning as he takes his seat.

 

“I’ll call you by your name then. I’m Seung Hyun.”

 

The slave stares at Seung Hyun for a few moments, the gears in his head turning as he decides whether to trust him.

 

“Seungri,” he finally answers.

 

Seung Hyun smiles. He likes this sweet boy. He likes that he’s in love, because it means that there’s still hope. Hope for this boy, hope for Jiyong, hope for the Rebellion...

 

“Is he handsome?” Seung Hyun asks.

 

“Yes,” Seungri says simply, still nervous.

 

“Mine is beautiful, too. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

 

Seungri smiles a little. “You haven’t seen mine.”

 

Seung Hyun’s face breaks out into a grin and he laughs. He likes the boy’s spunk. “Mine is wild. Like a storm. Loud and threatening at first, but so deep when he lets me get close to him.”

 

Seungri grins. “You sound like a friend of mine. He was a poet.”

 

Seung Hyun thinks of how Jiyong’s words fall so expertly from his mouth and he begins to wonder.

 

“Does he treat you well? Does he make you happy?” Seung Hyun asks.

 

Seungri nods and a dreamy smile appears on his face before he continues, “He makes me forget what we are.”

 

Seung Hyun aches for this boy and his lover. He knows he should hide his mission but he wants to offer some comfort to Seungri.

 

“What if I told you you didn’t have to be slaves?” he ventures, “Not for much longer anyway?”

 

Seungri bites his lips. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m telling you to keep your man close. Keep him safe, until the time comes.”

 

Seungri starts to blink furiously again and Seung Hyun is beginning to think it’s some sort of nervous tick. “Why?” he asks in a whisper.

 

Seung Hyun leans closer, rests his elbows on his knees and stares straight into the young slave’s deep, brown eyes. “Because I’m going to make them pay.”

 

_For what they’ve done to Jiyong._

 

Seungri gasps. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”

 

Seung Hyun leans back. “Don’t worry about it, kid. You don’t understand.”

 

“I’m not a kid!” Seungri explodes, standing up suddenly from his chair. “What you’re saying could get me killed!”

 

“I know,” Seun Hyun stands, too, fumbling over his apology, “I know--I’m...I’m sorry. Just forget everything I’ve said.”

 

He really didn’t mean to drag the boy into this, he just let the moment get away from him and now…

 

“I’ll do anything,” Seungri says and he sounds years older, “ _anything_ for his freedom. So if you’re really planning something, you better make sure you know what you’re doing. You better make sure it’s going to work. Or I’ll make _you_ pay.”

 

Seung Hyun is stunned. He can only nod.

 

Seungri sighs and sits back down. “They’ll be suspicious if I head back now. Push me out the door in fifteen minutes, alright?”

 

Seung Hyun nods again. Hands Seungri a drink. Promises himself he’ll never underestimate the young slave again.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

  
  


Despite being an menacing warrior, Youngbae has a fragile heart. He can take a barrage of physical blows, broken arms and torn muscles but his heart breaks like glass.

 

He’d kill as easily as he’d die for those he loves. Jiyong has seen it. Which is why Jiyong makes Seungri promise not to tell him he’s been called to the Master’s house at night.

 

He doesn’t want to lie to his closest friend, the man who’s saved his life over and over again but he knows Youngbae will go ballistic if he finds out and it will make it much harder for poor Seungri.

 

Poor Seungri.

 

Jiyong’s been feeling much better since the night that Seungri and Youngbae held him, loved him. Let him be weak.

 

It helps that his Master gives him a break from the skeevy men he sells him to so that he can focus on training for the upcoming battle.

 

It helps that Seungri and Youngbae still look at each other like they think the other one hung the moon, despite how Jiyong feels like he intruded on their relationship.

 

Seung Hyun helps, too, in his way. Jiyong’s not sure if he hates him or if there’s some other reason he can’t stop thinking about the strange man. Lately, his thoughts have been drifting to Seung Hyun’s grin, small and crooked at the just the right angle to make his chiseled face look debonair and sultry. Jiyong’s tempted to kiss that wicked grin off his face.

 

Jiyong _is_ feeling better. At least until Seungri comes to him in tears and tells him where he’s been sent for the night.

 

He puts his hands on Seungri’s shoulders and tells him to stop crying.

 

“Listen to me,” Jiyong whispers, “It’s going to be okay. Just don’t tell Youngbae.”

 

“I can’t lie to him,” Seungri cries.

 

“You don’t have to. I will. It’s better this way, trust me.”

 

“What am I gonna do?” Seungri looks so pathetic, it makes Jiyong nauseous.

 

He thinks about how terrified he was, the first time he was locked alone in a room with someone who wanted to violate him. He hates that Seungri’s going to go through the same thing.

 

“Maknae, stop crying for a second and listen to me.”

 

Seungri’s head nods dutifully. Jiyong thinks for a moment about giving him the same advice Youngbae once gave him, to fight until you can’t fight anymore. But Seungri is so small, he has never hurt anyone in his young life and Jiyong fears that if he tries to fight it, he’ll just be beaten to a pulp.

 

Poor Seungri.

 

Jiyong knows the kind of men who buy slaves for a night. He knows they’re already planning to break Seungri. He thinks of Youngbae’s soft caresses and even softer lips, how he gives pleasure before even thinking of asking for it. He realizes that after this night, his touch will never again feel the same to Seungri.

 

It’s so unfair it makes Jiyong want to tear down the walls of the complex and set fire to that horrid house. But he needs to be calm and practical for his friend.

 

“You’re going to do whatever they tell you to. And while it’s happening you’re going to go somewhere else.”

 

“What?”

 

“Just don’t think about what’s happening to you, okay? Think about Youngbae. Think about how much you love him and how good he is. Think about how it doesn’t matter what they do to you because he’s the only one who can ever truly have you.”

 

Jiyong can see the understanding coming over Seungri’s face. His eyes are still teary and red-rimmed but there’s a hardness in his stare. Their maknae is strong.

 

Later that night, all hell breaks lose.

 

Youngbae knows something is wrong. From his cell, Jiyong can hear him arguing with Daesung, asking him where Seungri is, why he hasn’t come to his cell.

 

He can hear his voice getting louder and louder as Daesung tries and fails to feign ignorance about Seungri’s whereabouts.

 

Then come the crashes. Youngbae is screaming at the top of his lungs and trashing his cell. It’s frightening, how unhinged Youngbae can be because he’s usually so composed and quiet. His howls echo throughout the hallways of the complex, and though it’s not unusual to hear slaves cry out in  the night, it’s rare to hear Youngbae manifest his suffering.

 

Jiyong has never seen him cry. Youngbae didn’t shed a tear after their tribe’s camp was burned to the ground or when their small group of survivors was led into the arena. He didn’t cry when it was only Jiyong and himself left standing after the bloodbath or when they clicked the metal collars around their necks. He is as steady as a stone.

 

But he’s got that damn glass heart.

 

Jiyong hears Daesung lock Youngbae’s door right before something shatters against the metal door. Then there’s the click of his own door opening and Daesung is standing there, mouth agape and eyes widened in shock because Youngbae--who has always respected him and at times, even called him a friend--just threw a lantern at his head.

 

“Can you calm him down?” Daesung asks, his husky voice a raised a bit in order to be heard over the havoc in the next cell.

 

Jiyong wishes he could but if there’s one thing he knows about Youngbae, it’s that his rage is unstoppable.

 

It’s part of the reason they’ve survived this long.

 

“I can try,” Jiyong responds and though his face remains impassive, he feels like he’s walking into a lion’s den.

 

When Daesung and Jiyong enter his cell, Youngbae is literally punching the concrete wall. There is blood gushing from his fists and his face is frozen in an ugly grimace. There’s a trickle of blood coming from his forehead and tufts of white hair on the floor.

 

The sight of him is absolutely terrifying.

 

“Youngbae...”Jiyong begins.

 

“Where the fuck is he?” Youngbae roars, turning to face Jiyong.

 

“One of the house slaves is sick and he was summoned to the Master’s house. He’ll be back soon,” Jiyong’s been practicing the lie in his head but the words sound hollow when they leave his lips.

 

Youngbae takes a deep breath before he bellows, “Bullshit! You’re lying to me!”

 

Not many people can stand and face Youngbae’s fury and Jiyong thinks he finally understands why. But he didn’t get the name of Dragon for nothing.

 

“Look at yourself!” He shouts and Youngbae flinches. “Look at this place! This is what he’s going to come back to?”

 

“He’s with one of them, isn’t he?” Youngbae asks, voice cracking. “He’s with one of those _fucking_ bastards!”

 

Jiyong doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. Seungri is beautiful and young and it was only a matter of time. Youngbae growls and starts punching the wall again.

 

Jiyong rushes to his side and tries to hold his arms back, but to no avail.

 

“He’s not coming back,” Youngbae cries.

 

“What are you talking about? Of course he’s coming back. He’s going to be alright.”

 

Youngbae stops his attack on the concrete to turn slowly towards Jiyong, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Were _you_?” he asks, dark eyes boring into Jiyong’s with a desperation he’s never seen from his lifelong friend. Jiyong can’t hold his stare; his eyes lower to the ground.

 

They both know the answer.

 

As if on cue, a small voice comes from the doorway, “Youngbae.”

 

Jiyong turns to see Seungri, seemingly unscathed, eyes darting around the room as he takes in the scene.

 

“What did you do? You’re bleeding,” he says carefully, treading slowly closer to where Jiyong and Youngbae stand. Youngbae turns back towards the wall.

 

“Nothing happened,” Seungri continues as Youngbae catches his breath, “He didn’t want me. I’m okay.”

 

Jiyong feels like a heavy weight was just lifted off his chest and he can finally breathe again. He suspects Seungri’s safety might be due to Seung Hyun but he doesn’t say anything, knowing how unnerved Youngbae is at the moment. He ruffles Seungri’s hair when the young slave gets close enough.

  


“Get out.”

 

Jiyong frowns. He must have misheard. It sounded like--

 

“Everyone. Out. Now.” Youngbae repeats, quieter and slower. Deadlier.

 

Jiyong moves to join Daesung at the door; Seungri remains. The young slave puts his hand on Youngbae’s shoulder but the warrior shrugs it off. He doesn’t even look at his lover.

 

“Get out,” he repeats, a strained whisper this time.

 

Jiyong can practically see Seungri’s entire world shatter. But just as quickly, his eyes harden with determination.

 

“No,” he says and Youngbae finally looks at him. “I’m not leaving you,” Seungri repeats levelly, and Jiyong wonders when the hell their maknae became so stubborn.

 

He touches the gash on the blonde warrior’s forehead gingerly, then slowly brings Youngbae’s bloodied fists to his own face, kisses his torn knuckles lightly. He ignores the blood that stains his lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says quietly.

 

Youngbae nods and finally reacts like he should. He holds his boy close and Seungri, for his part, wraps his arms around his wounded warrior tightly.

 

“I’m fine,” he says over and over again as Youngbae holds him tighter. “I’m here.”

 

Jiyong feels a tug on his arm and it’s Daesung, motioning that it’s time for them to leave. He looks as relieved as Jiyong feels. And he’s right: this isn’t their moment.

 

As Daesung closes the door, Jiyong catches a glimpse of Youngbae, cover in his own sweat and blood, falling to his knees.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Youngbae awakes to the sensation of soft lips, kissing a path down his torso and he smiles before he even opens his eyes.

 

“Seungri,” he croaks, voice rough in the morning, “you can’t wake me up like this every day.”

 

“Sure I can,” comes the light hearted reply and Youngbae shivers at the way Seungri’s breath blows hot on his inner thigh.

 

“I have a full day of training, you know,” the blonde warrior protests though a certain part of his anatomy is most certainly already on board.

 

“Then we should get this out of the way soon,” Seungri looks up at Youngbae and smirks, “wouldn’t want you to think about me all day.”

 

Youngbae clicks his tongue and sits up. He grabs Seungri’s biceps and pulls him up until the younger slave is lying on top of him, chest to chest.

 

“Stop apologizing, Seungri,” Youngbae says, his tone serious as he kisses the younger slave deeply.

 

Seungri breaks the kiss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Yes, you do. It wasn’t your fault. I should be the one apologizing for my reaction.”

 

It’s been two weeks and three days and though Youngbae and Seungri have made love and laughed and things seem to be back to normal, the incident hangs over their heads. Youngbae can’t help but feel that every time the younger slave touches him, he is trying to make up for the fact that he was called to the Master’s house.  As if it is somehow his fault that he is bright and attractive and that all eyes turn towards him as he walks down the halls of the complex.

 

Truthfully, Youngbae blames himself. He is ashamed of his outburst; the way he lost all reason when he thought that Seungri was being violated. More than that, though, Youngbae blames himself for taking the young slave’s innocence. It’s an undeniable fact that Seungri was virtually invisible and safe within the walls of the complex until Youngbae had to go and fall in love with him.

 

Youngbae should have been stronger; he should have resisted the temptation. But how could he? How was he to resist a beautiful boy who smiled at him like he was human, like he wasn’t a killer? And not just any boy, but Seungri? Seungri, whose shy awkward glances are just as enticing as his confident smirks. A boy with enough charm and charisma to hold the world in his hand if it wasn’t for the fact that he was born a slave. In another life, Seungri would have had the entire world kneeling at his feet.

 

In this life, he has Youngbae.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Seungri asks, mid-yawn, bringing Youngbae out of his reverie. He kisses the blonde warrior sleepily.

 

“You,” Youngbae replies, hips gyrating slightly because Seungri has that kind of power over him, “how amazing you are.”

 

Youngbae loves the fact that Seungri actually blushes. “Not me,” he says, eyes roaming Youngbae’s naked torso, “ _you’re_ the sun, remember?”

 

“If I’m the sun then you must be the moon and every single star in the sky. You’re the entire universe.”

 

Seungri laughs and the whole world seems brighter. “Youngbae,” he cries gleefully, “you say the strangest things!”

 

“It’s not strange,” Youngbae tightens his arms around Seungri and flips them both over, slots himself between Seungri’s leg and kisses him before continuing. “It’s the truth.”

 

He rolls his hips at just the right angle to grind their hardening cocks together and Seungri gasps.

 

Time loses meaning when Youngbae is with Seungri. Minutes stretch into forever and sometimes hours last mere seconds. This morning is no different. In between lazy morning kisses and their bodies moving together, Seungri and Youngbae have lost the rest of their clothes, their breath, and their self-control. Seungri is making those soft little moaning noises that drive Youngbae insane as his fingers are slicked with oil and buried in the younger slave’s heat.

 

“Now,” Seungri begs, “Please do it now.”

 

Youngbae complies. He’ll give Seungri anything he wants, especially when he’s like this, all pliant and responsive. He buries himself inside the younger slave, the tight heat almost overwhelms him, but then again, maybe it’s the way Seungri’s eyelashes flutter, the way his mouth is slightly parted, the way a single word leaves his lips. “Youngbae,” he sighs and is it really any wonder that the warrior is so damn gone on the boy?

 

Minutes pass again. Minutes that seem like an eternity of pleasure. Minutes of gasping into each other’s mouths and groaning when Youngbae’s cock reaches just the right spot that makes Seungri’s legs and ass tighten around him. It’s almost too much so Youngbae makes his thrusts shallower, slower.

 

“Youngbae...” Seungri says, “do it.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Do the thing you do.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Youngbae knows _exactly_ what Seungri is talking about.

 

“The thing I like,” Seungri responds, sounding peeved, as he tries to push himself further onto Youngbae’s cock.

 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Youngbae smirks, pulling his hips back to leave Seungri hanging. He just wants to hear Seungri say it. He needs to hear it. There is absolutely nothing more arousing in the entire world than Seungri’s dirty mouth in bed.

 

Seungri rolls his eyes and keeps trying to work himself further onto Youngbae but the warrior has the advantage and even though he will eventually give the younger slave what he wants, he really wants to see how far he can push this teasing.

 

Youngbae used to be the most playful and kind-hearted boy before he became enslaved and forgot how to smile. Seungri brings the old habits back to him, though, and he adores him for that.

 

“I want you to fuck me deep.” Youngbae grins because Seungri blushes even as he says it.

 

“Fuck me hard and deep so I can feel you all day.”

 

Youngbae moans. Starts to comply.

 

But suddenly, Seungri is leaning up, pushing Youngbae onto a sitting position on the bed while he straddles his hips. He is taking control of the situation, hips gyrating in a way that rivals Youngbae's. He can do nothing but meet Seungri’s thrusts, reach the spot that makes them both crazy.

 

“You love me, right?” Seungri whines, mouth near the other’s ear.

 

Youngbae is almost offended he even asks, but he's got a lapful of Seungri and it's hard to feel anything other than _so damn fucking turned on_ at the moment. “Of course I do,” he moans breathlessly.

 

“And you’d do anything for me, right?” And suddenly, Youngbae can see exactly where this is going. He should have seen it coming, too. Seungri has a tendency to ask him for things he knows Youngbae will have a problem with when they’re in the middle of fucking and the warrior is all loose and relaxed and lost in their love. It’s sneaky and unfair, and Youngbae almost stops to tell Seungri so, except that the younger slave’s breath is coming faster and his muscles are clenching tightly around Youngbae’s cock and he just knows that he is so, so close. He can’t stop their progress now. What kind of a man would he be?

 

“You’d do anything I asked, wouldn't you, Youngbae?” Seungri’s voice cracks as his hips move faster and faster.

 

“Yes,” Youngbae groans and it feels so, so good and he’s so damn close, “anything you want.”

 

“You’d let me fuck you, right?”

 

Youngbae’s hips snap up even harder. He has never objected to Seungri being on top, it’s just that Seungri begs for him, takes his cock so well and the pattern they’ve established works wonderfully. If he’d known Seungri wanted to fuck him, too, well Youngbae would have been on his back in a heartbeat.

 

“Yes,” Youngbae manages to respond, even though the thought of Seungri inside him makes it hard to focus.

 

“I’d be so good at it, hyung,” Seungri gasps, out of breath and almost out of time, “I’d fuck you so hard and make you scream my name 'til your throat goes raw.”

 

Youngbae struggles to keep with Seungri’s pace. “Oh god, yes. I want you to, Seungri. I want you to fuck me.”

 

Seungri’s eyes fall shut as he throws his head back and his hips lose their rhythm because he’s coming, letting out little whimpers and sighs and tightening around the warrior. Youngbae comes, too, eyes wide open as he stares at his love, the boy whose body still belongs to him by some miracle.

 

“There’s something else I want you to do for me,” Seungri says and Youngbae marvels at how the young slave can even form a coherent sentence after such mind-blowing sex.

 

He's still panting hard, so Youngbae only nods to show he’s listening.

 

“I want you to talk to Seung Hyun.”

 

Even in his blissed out, post coital state, Youngbae feels angry as realizes exactly what Seungri had planned. To fuck him senseless and make him agree to have a converstation with a man he didn't trust in the least.

 

Youngbae kind of hates Seung Hyun. He hates how he's obviously playing games with Jiyong, making him confused in some sort of twisted attempt at seduction. He hates that he keeps asking to see Seungri now, too, and that the medic comes back to him in the night whispering words of escape. Seung Hyun is the most dangerous type of free man there is, one who thinks he can help.

 

"I don't trust him, Seungri, and I'm not talking to him so please, stop asking me." Youngbae's voice comes out strained, his anger reflecting in his tone.

 

Seungri only smiles brilliantly, making all coherent thoughts fly out of Youngbae's head as drapes himself over the warrior and kisses his forehead chastely.

 

"Will you at least think about it?" Seungri says, as his mouth moves down to nip at that spot at Youngbae's jaw, the one he knows is his weakness. Youngbae groans. He wants to protest, but Seungri's hands are caressing his torso and his face is buried in his neck so that all Youngbae can smell is the sweet scent of Seungri's thick, dark hair.

 

"Okay," he concedes, "I'll think about it."

 

Seungri's kisses turn more passionate again, as if the two men haven't just had an amazing bout of morning sex. His hands roam the blonde warrior's body hungrily and Youngbae thinks that it's not his neck that's his greatest weakness, it's Seungri.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

 

The walls of the luxurious mansion glitter; the party guests--dressed in the finest silks and fabrics--are beautiful as they laugh amiably. It should make Seung Hyun feel proud, the fact that he’s prominent enough to be invited to such a fancy affair. Instead, it makes him feel disgusted.

 

Jiyong’s master has his warriors all lined up and barely dressed for everyone at the party to stare at. The guests mill about the warriors, who are bound by heavy manacles and metal collars, and comment on their physique. It shames Seung Hyun, how the guests treat the slaves as little more than party decorations and fodder for conversation. But more than that, it enrages him that the guests keep touching them, especially Jiyong.

 

He doesn’t want to feel possessive of the slave, especially since their relationship is rather delicate. And in truth, he doesn’t hate the touching because he feels Jiyong belongs to him. He hates it because Jiyong does. He can see the slight flinches as fingers graze his bare chest, the way his eyebrows knit together in discomfort when one of the guests comments on his body.

 

Seung Hyun tries to remain calm, reminds himself to just breathe. He can’t spoil his mission now, not when he’s so close.

 

He spots Seungri from across the room and smiles at him. He knows a golden opportunity when he sees one so Seung Hyun has decided to make the outspoken young man his inside person. From Seungri, Seung Hyun learns the layout of the complex, the ranking of slaves, their training methods. Once Seungri begins to talk, it’s hard to get him to stop, probably a symptom of having to live most of his life in relative silence, so the young slave is perfect for Seung Hyun’s mission.

 

He’s clever, too. He never reveals his lover’s name and as much as Seung Hyun tries to prod him for information about Jiyong, Seungri only gives him the barest details.

 

Jiyong.

 

Seung Hyun can’t help but walk closer to him, drawn like a moth to a flame. The slave standing next to Jiyong is his fighting partner and Seung Hyun’s not entirely sure what kind of relationship the two men have outside the arena. What he does know is that every time their gazes meet, Taeyang glares at him so obviously that Seung Hyun feels his cheeks flame in embarrassment.

  


Maybe they’re not friends, then. It seems that Taeyang doesn’t know what Jiyong and Seung Hyun do in the dark.

 

A shiver runs down his spine and Seung Hyun breaks out into a smile. He has to sip on his glass of wine to hide it.

 

A few weeks ago, Jiyong was led into Seung Hyun’s room and the free man really should have known something was different because the slave was missing his usual scowl.

 

Before Seung Hyun had even had a chance to speak, Jiyong had looked up at him, eyes bright, and accused him of saving Seungri.

 

“It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who didn’t touch Seungri.”

 

Seung Hyun had felt nervous for some reason, despite the fact that his actions had been nothing to be ashamed of. “Yes, but let me explain--” he had begun, but soon he was cut off by the softest pair of lips he had ever felt.

 

“You saved him,” Jiyong had gasped in between sharp kisses. Seung Hyun felt every inch of his skin tingle in disbelief. “It was you, it was _you_ , oh god.”

 

The feeling of Jiyong’s mouth, gasping for breath, lips quivering, was better than any dream or fantasy Seung Hyun had indulged in.

 

It was only a kiss.

 

Just one kiss.

 

A kiss that had been sloppy and full of pent up passion and desire; a kiss that seemed to defy the laws of time and space because Seung Hyun swore it lasted forever.

 

And then, Jiyong had left. He had pulled back, eyes searching Seung Hyun’s face is if seeing the man for the first time. Realization had dawned on his face and then he had torn himself from Seung Hyun’s arms and called for the guards. He had disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

 

Seung Hyun and Jiyong have kissed since then and each time it feels like they are hurtling closer and closer to colliding like dying stars. But nothing compares to that first one.

 

Since then, Seung Hyun’s life has been divided neatly into two distinct categories: time spent kissing Jiyong and time spent agonizing over when he will next be able to kiss Jiyong. It’s quite simple, really.

 

Jiyong’s kisses set Seung Hyun’s skin on fire and they are so strong, so overwhelmingly perfect that Seung Hyun has come in his pants from those wicked lips alone. Well, that, and the way Jiyong’s hips undulate like waves as he straddles him.

 

“Did you just…” Jiyong asks as he smirks, even though he knows. He’s always so damn pleased with himself.

 

“Shut up,” Seung Hyun says breathlessly as he chuckles in satisfaction and then it becomes a game.

 

A game to see how fast they can get each other off without taking off their clothes. Seung Hyun always cheats--he sucks on Jiyong’s nipples through his thin shirt until the warrior slave is nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his lap. Seung Hyun has learned by now that if he grabs Jiyong’s ass at just the right moment--fingers digging into supple muscle--Jiyong will curse loudly and lose control.

 

He’ll rub himself against Seung Hyun’s stomach unabashedly until he comes, too.

 

It’s the best game Seung Hyun’s ever played. He could probably do it forever, but they never have enough time.

 

There’s always something in their way. Jiyong has training and Seung Hyun has a slew of secret meetings. It’s frustrating, but Seung Hyun knows he only has to bear the distance for a little longer. Soon, Jiyong will be free.

 

“My, my, you sure do have a preference for the Dragon, don’t you?” a lilting voice brings Seung Hyun out of his thoughts. He frowns when he recognizes it.

 

“Jihoon,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

 

Seung Hyun makes a mental note to avoid looking at Jiyong in public again.

 

“I wouldn’t miss an affair like this for the world,” he smiles mischievously and Seung Hyun has to swallow his hatred of this man and smile back.

 

Seung Hyun has seen what this man has done to his own slaves. He’s seen their scars and the way Jihoon’s eyes stray to the marks, his lips turned up in a strange smile, as if remembering how the wounds got there in the first place. He is a ruthless man and people like him are the reason Seung Hyun is trying to stop the madness.

 

“There’s a rumor going around that you just can’t get enough of this one,” Jihoon says, chin pointing towards Jiyong.

 

Seung Hyun is about to respond but Jiyong’s master joins them, fake smile plastered on his face, Seungri at his side.

 

“Actually, it’s _this_ one he keeps asking for. He only speaks with the Dragon to ensure that everything at my facilities is just as I report it.”

 

Seung Hyun sees the spark of cruelty in Jihoon’s eyes when he first lays eyes on Seungri. He feels nauseous but his face remains relaxed.

 

“And _who_ exactly do we have here?” Jihoon’s sinister voice makes Seung Hyun shiver.

 

Seungri keeps his eyes glued to the floor as his master answers for him. “He’s the medic for my warriors. Seungri.”

 

Jihoon approaches Seungri slowly. He walks a tight circle around him, obviously appraising the young slave’s body and that’s when Seung Hyun sees it. He’s been trying to keep his eyes from resting on Jiyong, lest their relationship be discovered, but a movement from the line of warriors draws his attention.

 

Taeyang’s teeth are bared and his eyebrows are drawn together in a vicious frown. Jiyong is holding him back discreetly, his thin hand is wrapped around the shorter slave’s wrist. Taeyang is barely keeping it together, his body trembles with the effort he’s making but Jiyong is leaning into his ear, whispering quick words and it seems to be holding the warrior back. At least for now.

 

Realization strikes Seung Hyun like lightning and suddenly, all of the pieces fall into place. Seungri’s lover, the one that makes the young slave swoon and sigh, is none other than the warrior slave Taeyang. And, honestly, Seung Hyun doesn’t know what he expected. Of course a remarkable boy like Seungri would be loved by someone equally as impressive. But it makes things complicated.

 

Escaping with one half of the famed warrior team was already going to be difficult enough.

 

Seungri gasps involuntarily when Jihoon grabs his ass and chuckles. “What does he taste like, Seung Hyun?”

 

Seung Hyun acts fast. He puts his half-drunk glass of wine down and pulls Seungri towards him. It seems that everyone at the party is now paying attention to this exchange, so Seung Hyun must tread carefully.

 

“You’ll never find out,” Seung Hyun says, a bit louder than necessary since they have an audience.

 

Jihoon laughs abruptly. “You never struck me as the possessive type. In fact,” Jihoon’s eyes turn hard, “if I recall correctly, you’ve always been opposed to slavery. I even remember you calling me a ‘miserable bastard’ for having many.”

 

Silence falls over the crowd. Jiyong’s master has a concentrated look on his face because this is all new information.

 

“I didn’t call you a ‘miserable bastard’ for having slaves. I called you that for treating them like shit. Obviously, your slaves are nowhere near as well-kept and content as the ones in this fine complex.”

 

The crowd bursts into laughter and move on to the next topic of conversation. Jihoon scowls and walks away without excusing himself and Jiyong’s master smirks with pride. He nods at Seung Hyun.

 

“I appreciate your kind words about my facilities, Mr. Choi,” Jiyong’s master says. “If you’d like to spend the night with Seungri, you are more than welcome to.”

 

Seung Hyun feels Seungri bristle nervously. He lets go of the young slave’s arm. “That won’t be necessary. Although, I would appreciate it if you let him rest. ”

 

“But of course,” Jiyong’s master says as he leaves Seung Hyun and Seungri.

 

Seung Hyun lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Seungri smiles gratefully at him but doesn’t dare to speak before spoken to in such a public setting.

 

“Are you alright?” Seung Hyun asks, his voice low and quiet as he leans down to speak the words close to Seungri’s ear.

 

“Yes,” Seungri says simply. His eyes are locked onto Taeyang.

 

Jiyong and Taeyang have gone back to standing stock still, their eyes staring blankly ahead. They look like golden statues, their bodies glisten beautifully in the soft lighting of the party. But Seung Hyun can see the sorrow in Jiyong’s eyes. And worse, he can see the defeat etched into Taeyang’s entire demeanor.

 

He vows to himself to find a way to give Jiyong back his smile, and Taeyang, his pride.

 

It’s the least he could do.

  



	11. Chapter 11

 

“It’s so _romantic_ , hyung!”

 

Jiyong shushes Seungri but smiles as he elbows him lightly. “Be quiet, maknae.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Seungri says, “I’m just so happy for you.”

 

They are in the large training room, surrounded by practice fights and training equipment, and for some unfathomable reason, Jiyong has made the mistake of telling Seungri about Seung Hyun. He snorts. “It’s more like unbelievably, blindingly stupid.”

 

Seungri just smiles. “Seung Hyun is a good man. He wants to help.”

 

“I know,” Jiyong says, because he does. He has spent as many nights rutting up against the tall handsome man as he has discussing how escape would be possible. He doesn’t tell Seungri or Youngbae about how they’ve been trying to hash out details of a plan. There will be time for that later.

 

“I wish Youngbae trusted him,” Seungri says after short pause. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for him.”

 

Jiyong sighs as Seungri binds strips of cloth around his knuckles, preparing him for a spar. The warrior slave has a tendency to forget to take protective measures when practicing but luckily, Seungri is there to help with his bright smile and soft hands. There is silence while the medic works on Jiyong’s fists and he can tell by the frown on Seungri’s face that he is legitimately bothered by Youngbae’s emotional defenses.

 

“He used to sing, you know,” Jiyong says, almost involuntarily.

 

“Who?” Seungri asks.

 

“Who do you think, maknae? Your man.”

 

Seungri turns to look at where Youngbae is currently teaching a new slave--a tall and cocky boy named Minho--how to properly dodge a punch. “Really?”

 

Jiyong nods. “He’s got an amazing voice, too. A lot like yours but...sadder. More soulful, I guess.”

 

“He’s never told me about that,” Seungri says, his tone dejected.

 

Jiyong wonders whether he should keep explaining but he decides that their maknae can handle it. He just hopes Youngbae isn’t upset with him. “We weren’t the only ones from our tribe taken to the arena.”

 

Seungri hands stop working and he looks up at Jiyong, eyes wide and attentive.

 

“There was a small group of us that survived the initial attack,” Jiyong continues. “They packed us into a tiny wagon and we rode for days. No food, no water. We didn’t even know where we were going.”

 

Memories of being fifteen years old and absolutely petrified with fear come creeping back to Jiyong. He remembers not being able to meet anyone’s eyes for fear he’d see his own hopelessness reflected in them. He remembers how eventually his own tears blurred out the faces. But there’s something else he remembers crystal clearly, despite the fact that he’s spent years trying to forget.

 

“There was a little boy there. His parents had been killed and he was just so young and so fucking scared. Youngbae held him in his arms and told him everything was going to be alright. He sang to him until he fell asleep. And then he kept singing so that the boy wouldn’t be scared when he woke up. He sang and sang and I swear, Seungri, his voice lifted us all up, lifted us out of that damned wagon and gave us something to hope for.”

 

Jiyong’s eyes begin to water and he looks at the floor instead of holding Seungri’s gaze.

 

“The first thing they did when we got to the arena was tear that little boy out of Youngbae’s arms and snap his neck.”

 

Jiyong inhales deeply and meets Seungri’s gaze again. The young medic is breathing deeply, too, struggling to maintain his composure. Jiyong can tell that Seungri understands now. Why Youngbae doesn’t sing or hope or trust anymore. They’ve taken it all from him. They’ve torn love out of his arms one too many times.

 

The slaves are snapped out of the tense moment when Youngbae approaches, holding his chin.

 

“Minho has a great left hook,” he says, chuckling a bit and rubbing at his jaw. There’s a bit of blood on his lips.

 

Seungri hugs him so suddenly and tightly that he knocks the breath out of the shorter man. They’ve given up trying to hide their relationship from the other slaves. There’s a sense of brotherhood among them and not a single slave has revealed their secret. At least not yet.

 

When Seungri finally loosens his grip on the warrior, Youngbae frowns inquisitively at Jiyong.

 

Jiyong only shrugs in response, not wanting to give anything away. It is then that Jiyong spots two familiar faces walking towards him through the crowd. The slaves quiet down a bit but continue to practice. Jiyong’s heart skips a beat and he feels his cheeks flame.

 

“Gentlemen,” Seung Hyun greets after Daesung has led him to where Jiyong, Seungri and Youngbae stand. The greeting is comically formal in this setting, especially coming from the tall man, but the fact that Seung Hyun always tries never fails to make Jiyong smile. He really is a strange one.

 

The way Youngbae is glaring at Seung Hyun makes Jiyong shift nervously and it’s an awkward few minutes until Seungri drags Youngbae back to his cell under the pretense of taking care of his small wound.

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says and Youngbae follows begrudgingly.

 

“I need to talk to you,” Seung Hyun says when Daesung leaves them alone to go tend to the newer slaves.

 

The guards lead the two men to Jiyong’s cell. They seem confused at the fact that Seung Hyun wants them to lock him inside, too, but they don’t question him. Being a free, wealthy man has endless benefits.

 

Jiyong kisses him as soon as the cell door closes and Seung Hyun kisses back, strong hands finding purchase on Jiyong’s hips. The touch sends shivers down Jiyong’s spine and the power he has over Seung Hyun makes him feel invincible.

 

“Couldn’t wait to see me, could you?” Jiyong teases to hide the fact that he has also been slowly going insane with figuring out when he will next be able to see Seung Hyun.

 

Seung Hyun just smiles and nods. Leans down to kiss the slave again.

 

The unusual man is a gift to Jiyong. He never thought he’d feel this way again. Captivity has made Jiyong jaded and rough, but Seung Hyun treats him so tenderly and kisses him so sweetly and it makes the slave weak in the knees and starry-eyed and all those other cliches that used to seem ridiculous and stupid.

 

“There’s another reason I came,” Seung Hyun’s voice rumbles as his hands stroke Jiyong’s cheek. “We need to talk.”

 

Jiyong senses the seriousness in Seung Hyun’s tone so he stops his hands from wandering. Controls himself.

  

“You can’t fight in the tournament.”

  

Jiyong frowns. “What?”

 

“I don’t want you to fight, it’s not safe. I’m going to ask your master for a favor--”

 

Jiyong turns abruptly and walks to the far side of the cell. Sometimes he feels like no matter how much his heart beats for Seung Hyun, they are still worlds apart. “It’s never _safe_ , Seung Hyun.”

 

“I know,” Seung Hyun follows him, eyes filled with worry. “But it’s worse this time. They’re going to give you weapons. They want to make the tournament crueler than ever before so they’re giving all the slaves weapons to fight with. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

 

Jiyong’s never believed in a higher power, but if he had, this would be the moment where he would send out a silent thank you. Seung Hyun’s been planning on an elaborate escape plan but Jiyong knows better. He knows his master will never let him go. And no matter how much Seung Hyun has been promising to come back for Youngbae, there’s no way in hell Jiyong’s going to leave him behind. So he’s been plotting alone and keeping Seung Hyun in the dark, biding his time until something drastic happens. This is much better than he ever dared to dream.  

 

“What are they going to give me?” he asks and Seung Hyun frowns in confusion and--just maybe--fear.

 

“A sword, I think. It’s kind of curved at the end. Why do you ask?”

 

“A scimitar, huh. I can work with that,” Jiyong responds.

 

“I don’t understand, Jiyong,” Seung Hyun begins, exasperated.

 

“You will,” Jiyong smiles and wraps his arms around the tall man’s shoulders. “But not right now. Later.”

 

Not right now. Right now, Jiyong wants Seung Hyun’s lips and smoky eyes boring into him.

 

Seung Hyun nods again, silent and ever-trusting of Jiyong. It makes the slave’s heart fill with a strange lightness.

  

A loud moan breaks the moment and it takes Jiyong a second to realize it came from Youngbae’s cell. Jiyong chuckles.

 

“I guess Seungri’s finally on top,” he jokes, to himself more than anything.

 

“How do you know that?” Seung Hyun asks.

 

“Trust me, I know what Youngbae sounds like when he’s being fucked.”

 

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Especially when Seung Hyun’s face falls and his hands drop from Jiyong’s waist. The warrior slave curses his lack of discretion.

 

“I didn’t know,” Seung Hyun says before chuckling darkly. “I guess that’s why he hates me.”

  

“He doesn’t hate you,” Jiyong lies. “It’s just--listen don’t worry about him. He’ll come around.”

 

Seung Hyun wrings his hands anxiously and sits on the edge of Jiyong’s bed. The expensive fabric he wears contrasts sharply against the stained and thin blanket. He sighs deeply before speaking.

 

“Jiyong, you’re not obligated to be with me. I would still help you even if you didn’t want me. I don’t want to get in the way of your heart.”

 

Jiyong feels lightheaded with affection. He wants to tell Seung Hyun that it’s impossible, that he _is_ his heart, that being in his arms feels like he’s being burned and blessed. Like holy fire. There are always beautiful words floating in Jiyong’s head for Seung Hyun, but he doesn’t let them come out of his mouth. He doesn’t dare.

  

This feeling is too much. Too soon. Too strong.

  

So he does what he does best. Jiyong walks over to Seung Hyun and sits next to him. Holds his hand and offers him what he can.

  

He kisses those hands and doesn’t protest when Seung Hyun pushes his shoulders down and crawls on top of him. He lets the taller man mouth at his neck and lull him with deep kisses and roaming hands. Soon, they are back to their old habits, mouths gasping and hips rolling together and causing the exquisite friction that Jiyong always craves.

 

He’s painfully hard and his mind is probably too clouded by emotion to consider his next words, but Jiyong can only be himself, so he says them anyway.

  

“Do you want to be inside me?”

 

Seung Hyun pulls back as he tries to supress a pained groan. His eyes search Jiyong’s face for a long time before he rests his forehead lightly on Jiyong’s own.

 

When he finally speaks, his voice is husky. “More than anything. But not like this. Not here, not while you truly have no choice.”

 

Jiyong bites his lip and wishes his heart would stop hammering so damn loudly against his chest. His mind screams _I love you_ and _I want you_ and _please don’t ever let me go_ and he’s so close to saying the words but he’s built iron-clad defenses and as much as he wants to give in, something is holding him back.

  

Besides, Youngbae and Seungri’s frantic moans break the moment again. Jiyong laughs when Seung Hyun asks them if they are always this loud. They are.

  

Jiyong lets Seung Hyun kiss him softly as he runs his hands through the tall man’s thick, chestnut colored hair for a few more minutes before Seung Hyun has to leave. After an almost interminable goodbye, Seung Hyun is gone and Jiyong is left alone in his cell, reeling.

  

Jiyong feels like a monster most of the time, filled with rage and a thirst for revenge, but a few kind words from Seung Hyun make him feel all soft-hearted and giddy.

  

He wants to be kind to Seung Hyun.

  

He wants to meet him on the other side of these walls.

 

Maybe one day, he will.

 


	12. Chapter 12

  
Daesung walks towards the Master’s house and for the first time since he was caught and sold into slavery, he feels no dread.

 

They are getting closer.

 

Daesung doesn’t remember when he became a part of the Revolution. Maybe, he always has been. Even before he was a slave, the notion of owning humans never sat right with him.

 

Maybe it was when they locked him away for stealing bread so that his little sister wouldn’t starve.

 

 _No_ , Daesung thinks. It was when they stormed their ramshackle house and took her from him. It was when they snapped a metal collar around his neck and called it justice.

 

Daesung wonders if Minzy is still alive, if she even remembers him, but he doesn’t dare dwell on the possibility for too long. It’s best to imagine her dead than to think of her suffering alone. He should just think of her as his most treasured memory and move on. Try to make sure that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

 

His master likes him. From the beginning, Daesung was perceived as naturally docile and easy to manipulate. Easy to trust.

 

They don’t know him. They don’t know that years of living in poverty before being sold into slavery made him indestructible. He’s been on the losing end of the battle since the day he was born and he has not once given up.

 

His master made a mistake with him. He gives him too much power over the other slaves and too much responsibility. It’s laughable, really, how easy it is for Daesung to walk through the halls of the lavish house and labyrinth of slave quarters carrying secret messages and valuable information.

 

Daesung is perceptive. He can see how the other slaves follow Youngbae and Jiyong’s every move, some with envy in their eyes but most, with adoration. He knows these boys and their charisma are exactly what the Revolution needs.

 

He thinks of them as boys even though they are around the same age. He’s been watching out for them for a long time. The warrior slave team holds a special place in his heart, not just because he thinks the future of the Revolution rests on their shoulders, but because he knows what they have suffered. He cares about them.

 

It’s why he’s been taking special care to hide Youngbae and Seungri’s love and why he’s been helping Seung Hyun in his remarkably naive quest to win Jiyong’s heart.

 

When Daesung arrives in his mistress’ suite, he takes care to draw all the curtains closed and to send the guards away. The room is unreasonably large, filled with glittering decorations and large pieces of furniture for lounging. He waits patiently for her to appear and she doesn’t disappoint.

 

She emerges from the closet wrapped in luxurious silks and expensive bracelets and jewels. Her golden hair cascades down her shoulders and she struts towards him, confident and breathtaking.

 

“Daesung,” she greets, her voice mimicking the pompous tone of the wealthy.

 

“Chaerin,” he replies, a smile playing upon his lips. She has that effect on people.

 

“I’m glad you’re here. I have good news and bad news.” She’s always straight to the point and it’s one of the things Daesung appreciates most about her.

 

“Good news first.”

 

She beams at him as she takes a seat. “Seung Hyun thinks the Dragon is on board. He says he’s got some interesting ideas about what the other slaves are going to do once they find out what my father and the others are planning for the tournament.”

 

Daesung shivers involuntarily at the coldness of her tone. It has always struck him as ironic that his master’s biggest enemy has been right under his nose, raised by his own cruel hands.

 

“Does he think they’ll refuse to fight?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

“They won’t make a decision until they know what Taeyang thinks.”

 

The triumphant smile on Chaerin’s face drains. “That brings me to the bad news.”

 

Daesung swallows the lump in his throat and motions for Chaerin to continue.

 

“My father knows about him and Seungri.”

 

“What is he going to do?” Daesung asks, preparing himself for the worst.

 

Chaerin just shakes her head sadly. “I wish I knew.”

 

The disheartening conversation stays on Daesung’s mind all day long. He sneaks glances of Youngbae and Seungri during the training session. Their love is so obvious; Youngbae can’t stop looking Seungri and the younger slave glows with the attention. It’s no wonder that they’ve been found out, but it isn’t fair.

 

When his Master summons Youngbae, Daesung feels like he’s leading him to the gallows. He hates himself for not being able to help the warrior slave but he knows it’s a situation where he’s choosing between Youngbae’s life and all the other slaves’ lives and it really is no contest. Daesung thinks Youngbae would understand.

 

Their master sits behind his huge mahogany desk and he motions at the guards to close the door. Daesung moves to leave but his master frowns and shakes his head.

 

“You don’t have to go anywhere, Daesung, there are no secrets between us.”

 

His tone makes Daesung cringe but he has no choice. He moves to a corner of the room and waits.

 

“Taeyang,” his master begins, voice disarmingly high-pitched and calm, “I’m a good Master, aren’t I?”

 

Youngbae toys with the shackles around his wrists. “Yes, sir,” he replies icily.

 

“These facilities are state-of-the-art, you are well-fed and looked after. I took you from a life of savagery and turned you into a star. Everyone on this side of the planet knows your name.”

 

Youngbae shifts, his discomfort evident.

 

“I ask for one thing only…”

 

He stands up and paces around the room for a minute, letting the tension build.

 

“Your complete and undivided loyalty.”

 

“You have that, sir,” Youngbae says, a nervous edge to his voice.

 

Their master gets close to Youngbae. “I know about you and that _boy_.”

 

Youngbae’s eyes stare straight ahead but he worries at his bottom lip. He knows he's been caught.

 

“If it were anyone else, I’d have you both publicly executed for your insolence.” Their master’s thin voice trembles with anger and Daesung thinks this might be it, this might be how the famed warrior slave loses his life. Not in a glorious battle or from an infected wound but in the hands of a detestable man with a thirst for power. He almost looks away.

 

Almost.

 

He stares at the scene before him. Someone should bear witness to this great man’s fall.

 

“But I am not heartless,” their master purrs as he strokes Youngbae’s face. The slave tries to hide his disgust. They both know what will happen to him if he flinches.

 

“I will let you have him, my pet. He will be yours and I won’t send him to see any of my guests anymore.”

 

Youngbae’s eyes widen and his lips fall open.

 

“All I ask is that you make sure that everyone else in there is as happy and content as you are. And if anyone gets out of line, you take care of it.”

 

The conflict is written all over Youngbae’s face but he nods. Daesung knows before the conversation is even over that the warrior slave will chose Seungri over anything and everything else a thousand times over.

 

Daesung thinks of his darling Minzy and he knows he can’t blame Youngbae. He’d do the same.

 

A few hours later, Daesung realizes just how evil their master truly is when he is asked to retrieve Seungri for a group of rowdy guests who want some entertainment. The protest dies on his lips when he sees the calculating look in the man’s eyes. Their master lied to Youngbae’s face, promised to keep his love safe and turned around and sold him for the night to the appalling Jihoon.

 

The entire ordeal was just a deliberate move to assert his dominance over him. He has wanted to break Youngbae ever since the fifteen year old boy took out a slew of soldiers that were meant to kill him and Jiyong their first time in the arena.  Daesung thinks he may have finally found the way.

 

“Youngbae,” Daesung says softly, eyeing the warrior slave as he sits quietly on his bed. He has already taken Seungri to the house and he is here to tell Youngbae the truth, even if it means another breakdown. He deserves it.

 

“I already know,” Youngbae’s voice is strained.

 

“How?”

 

“Jiyong is already at the house. That means Seungri hasn’t been sent to Seung Hyun.”

 

Daesung sighs and sits on the bed next to him, placing his hand on Youngbae’s tattooed shoulder. It’s the only comfort he can give him.

 

“He’ll need you now more than ever.”

 

Youngbae nods. “I know.”

 

They stay like that for a long time, in overwhelming silence. Words are often superflous between the two friends. Daesung thinks about all the horrors in their lives and prays for a miracle.

 

He has never stopped believing in God.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains the aftermath of a rape. It's not graphic or overly explicit but it is clear what happened so if you are uncomfortable reading that, please skip this chapter.

 

Seungri is still trembling when Daesung comes to escort him from the master’s house back to the slave complex.

 

He can’t stop his hands from twitching and his vision is impaired because his right eye is swollen shut. Seungri wishes he had been stronger, that he’d fought back against rough hands and sharp teeth.

 

Instead, he’d quietly let them take what used to belong to only him and Youngbae.

 

He feels like scum. He feels disgusting.

 

“Seungri,” Daesung’s voice is laced with sorrow and guilt. He can’t meet Daesung’s eyes. He knows there will be sympathy there.

 

Daesung seems to understand. He doesn’t try to offer Seungri a comforting pat in the shoulder. He turns and leads Seungri back to the cells. He makes sure to walk slowly when he notices Seungri’s limp, but doesn’t mention it.

 

The walk seems to take forever and Seungri’s thoughts drift to how the hands felt when they bruised him, how much it hurt when they pulled at his hair and called him names. He doesn’t know any of their faces. They attacked him in the dark.

 

Daesung stops at Youngbae’s door and Seungri panics. He remembers Youngbae’s reaction the last time and he doesn’t want the warrior slave to see him like this, so weak and broken. Speaking is difficult because of the bruises around his jaw but he opens his mouth to protest when Daesung’s stern voice shocks him.

 

“You are one of the brightest souls I’ve ever met. Don’t let them take away your light.”

 

Seungri’s not sure if Daesung is referring to Youngbae but it’s too late to ask. The door is already opening and Youngbae is in the center of the room, skin aglow with the moonlight that streams in through the tiny window of his cell. He looks so beautiful that Seungri’s heart almost breaks. He looks like salvation.

 

Youngbae approaches him slowly and carefully. He stands in front of the ruined boy and reaches out to touch Seungri’s chin lightly. He doesn’t react when the young slave flinches at the touch and for that, Seungri is grateful.

 

“I’m dirty,” is all Seungri can say but Youngbae seems to understand. He seems to know that Seungri means that he’s broken; fractured beyond repair and no longer worth any of the love he has to give.

 

Youngbae just smiles sadly and lands a feather-light kiss on chapped and bruised lips.

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up then,” Youngbae’s voice is so gentle, so different from the jeers that have been filling Seungri’s ears for hours. He remembers Jiyong telling him about something called an oasis and he decides that that must be what Youngbae is.

 

Daesung leads them to the showers and Seungri feels like he’s wading through a dense fog.  Youngbae’s hand is wrapped around his own, a solid presence leading him through the dark. When they reach the showers, Daesung tells Youngbae he’ll stand guard so that no one can come in.

 

Youngbae cleans Seungri so tenderly and delicately and Seungri feels so ashamed and useless--he can’t even move to wash himself--but his warrior is there. He is holding all the broken pieces of Seungri’s heart and mind and Seungri wishes he was as strong as him.

 

 

Youngbae’s calloused hands and the warm water wash away the dirt and blood that has caked onto Seungri’s marred skin.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, when Youngbae kneels on the tiled floor to reach between Seungri’s legs with a wet piece of cloth. He hadn’t even noticed the blood running down his thighs.

 

“I let them--” Seungri begins but the sharp look in Youngbae’s eyes makes him choke on the words.

 

“You didn’t let anyone do anything,” Youngbae says, his words holding finality. “You did nothing wrong.”

 

“They ruined me,” Seungri says and he wonders why the words come out hollow despite the whirlwind of misery that rages inside him. He still hasn’t cried.

 

“They didn’t ruin you, you’re still perfect,” Youngbae places a small kiss to Seungri’s kneecap and continues washing away the blood. “Besides, you’re not theirs to ruin.”

 

Seungri tries to smile at Youngbae’s sweet words but his face hurts and his heart feels empty. “Because I’m yours?”

 

Youngbae stands up, strokes Seungri’s back gently. “No. You don’t belong to anyone. Not even me.”

 

Seungri frowns, not understanding. “But Jiyong is yours.”

 

“That’s what Jiyong needs me to say, what he wants to hear. But it’s not the truth. You’re strong enough for the truth. You’re stronger than any of us. You belong only to yourself, love, and _that’s_ what they will never take away from you.”

 

Seungri looks into Youngbae’s eyes for the first time since being led into his cell. “You really think that?”

 

“I know that,” Youngbae says and he looks at Seungri with admiration and love in his eyes.

 

Seungri waits until they are back in Youngbae’s cell to break. He lets the tears stream down his cheeks as Youngbae holds him, leaning back in the small bed that used to be their heaven. Seungri’s torn back is molded to Youngbae’s muscular torso and the warrior slave kisses the wounds on the side of his face and lets him mourn.

 

When Youngbae begins to sing softly to him, Seungri breaks apart again. Jiyong was right. Youngbae's song is made of hope and longing and redemption. His voice cracks from disuse but it’s the most gorgeous sound Seungri’s ever heard because it holds all the love the warrior slave still manages to have for him and it means everything in the world.

 

“Seungri,” Youngbae whispers when the young slave has finally run out of tears.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Don’t cry anymore. You’re going to get your revenge. I’m going to make sure of it.”

 

Seungri turns around to face Youngbae again. His heart starts beating faster but it’s a new sort of adrenaline rushing through his veins.

 

“What are you going to do?” Seungri asks, not daring to hope.

 

“Not me. We.”

 

“We?”

 

"Yes," Youngbae affirms, "you and me."

 

Seungri shyly brings his hand to Youngbae's face and the way the warrior closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Seungri's knuckles is almost enough to make Seungri forget about tonight. Almost, but not quite. "What are we going to do then?"

 

When Youngbae opens his eyes, there is a hardness and determination in his gaze. “We’re going to kill them. We’re going to kill them all.”

 

Seungri sucks in a sharp breath. His lips clash against Youngbae’s for the first time that night.

 

He has never loved him more.

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

Seungri changes.

 

It’s been a month since they violated him and the boy who used to shine brightly doesn’t smile anymore. He doesn’t bat his eyelashes coyly at Jiyong when he wants something.  He doesn’t greet Daesung cheerfully.

 

He has become Youngbae’s shadow. He follows the warrior slave around like his life depends on it and sends death glares to anyone that dares to touch either of them.

 

He trains.

 

Jiyong watches him now, from across the training room. Youngbae is sparring with him but Seungri isn’t holding back his punches and his form is flawless. It rivals even Youngbae’s. The way the medic has learned to fight so quickly in such a short amount of time is extraordinary. Jiyong always knew that Seungri was gifted, but until now, he hadn’t realized the extent of his intellect and skill. Or his pain.

 

It’s his pain that drives him to train arduously for hours on end. Jiyong watches the evenly matched pair and wonders if its true what they say. That we become like those we love.

 

Eventually, Youngbae gets careless and a fist lands on his jaw. He stumbles and falls backwards. Jiyong rushes across the training room without even thinking about it.

 

“I’m alright,” Jiyong hears Youngbae say when he reaches the pair. He’s smiling brilliantly, the first real smile Jiyong’s seen from him since the night Seungri was torn apart and given back to him. “That was good,” Youngbae praises.

 

Seungri doesn’t smile back but he holds out his hand to help Youngbae stand up. When the warrior slave is on his feet, Seungri pulls him towards him and kisses him deeply and suddenly. He’s too rough with it, though, especially since he just bruised the warrior’s jaw. The way Youngbae’s hand twitches against Seungri’s forearm lets Jiyong know the kiss hurts like hell.

 

When he pulls back to let Youngbae breathe, Seungri smirks dangerously.

 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Seungri snaps at a newer slave that has stopped sparring to watch their open and rather lustful display of affection.

 

The new slave--Jiyong can never remember if his name is Jinwoo or Jinhoo--just blinks his huge, brown eyes at them and scurries away.

 

Jiyong knows what’s happening to Seungri because he’s been in his place. He knows he’s furious at the world and at his own lack of power and that he is lashing out with aggression at anyone that makes him feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

 

But there’s something else there, something that makes Jiyong apprehensive. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but sometimes, Jiyong worries that the Seungri he used to know and love is completely gone.

 

There is a sense of foreboding--of awful catastrophe looming on the horizon and it makes Jiyong reconsider his insane plan and bury himself further in Seung Hyun’s broad arms.

  


He won’t, though. The plan isn’t perfect. It’s dangerous, quite reckless and more than likely, going to fail. But it’s better than anything else that’s been suggested and it’s much too late to back out now. The tournament begins in two days.

 

* * *

 

Jiyong twists and turns restlessly in his bed. His stomach is abuzz with anxious energy. He doesn’t know what time it is and though his body is exhausted from the added stress of practicing with weapons, his mind is so filled with worry that he can’t just fall asleep.

 

When he hears his cell door being opened, relief floods over him. He expects it to be Seung Hyun’s tall figure in the doorway, but it’s his lifelong friend standing in his stead.

 

“Youngbae, what’s wrong?”

 

Youngbae lets out a long-suffering sigh before sitting on the edge of Jiyong’s bed. Daesung nods at them before closing the door. Jiyong is still impressed that the man who they had thought was just a kind slave is actually a spy for the so-called Revolution.

 

Daesung calls it that. Seung Hyun calls it a Rebellion. Jiyong doesn’t think it matters. He just calls it vengeance.

 

He briefly wonders what Youngbae calls it but the forlorn look in his eyes stops Jiyong from asking. He probably just calls it a nightmare.

 

“Is Seungri dreaming again?” Jiyong asks instead, sensing Youngbae’s gloom. The other warrior nods and settles his hand on Jiyong’s shoulder. His thumb rubs back and forth, slowly.

 

“I have to wait until he wakes up.”

 

He doesn’t have to say it because Jiyong already knows. Youngbae seems to think that his cell walls and his own mind are impenetrable to Jiyong but he’s wrong. Jiyong knows everything about him. He’s known everything about Youngbae since the moment he laid eyes on him, ten years old and playing in the sand with a ragged ball by himself. Jiyong had known that this boy would be the other half of his heart before he even spoke a word to him.

 

Now, Jiyong knows that Seungri’s nightmares are killing Youngbae. Literally.

 

He’s heard Seungri’s screams of horror at some imaginary evil and Youngbae’s quiet voice trying to soothe his fear. He’s heard the choked off sounds of Youngbae gasping for breath when Seungri’s been unable to differentiate reality from his dreams.

 

He’s seen the bruises around Youngbae’s neck; the ones he can’t hide and even though he can pretend that they are practice injuries to everyone else, Jiyong knows.

 

“Are you scared?” Jiyong asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“I think the plan is shit but we’ve got the element of surprise on our side. It’s better than nothing.”

 

Youngbae knows what Jiyong meant but he’s always been good at deflecting.

 

“Do you think the other slaves will listen to us?” Jiyong asks.

 

Youngbae’s answering smile seems like a memory. Jiyong’s not sure if it’s on his friend’s face or in his mind. “They’ll listen to you. You’ve always been good with words.”

 

Jiyong sighs and Youngbae’s eyes dart around nervously. “He loves you.”

 

Jiyong frowns and sits up in the bed. He’s confused because Youngbae couldn’t possibly be talking about the man that he abhors but reluctantly trusts because he’s probably the most important part of their plan.

 

“Yes, I’m talking about Seung Hyun.” Jiyong smiles because of course Youngbae knows his mind, too.

 

“When he looks at you,” Youngbae begins before he clears his throat, discomfort evident in his voice. “He looks at you like he can’t even believe you exist.”

 

“Youngbae, what are you rambling on about?”  Jiyong’s good at deflecting, too. Talking about Seung Hyun makes him feel like a shy virgin.

 

“I’m serious, Ji,” Youngbae’s eyes turn solemn. “I know that look because that’s how I used to feel about you.”

 

Jiyong looks down. He forgets sometimes that he used to be so madly in love with Youngbae. He forgets that their history includes a few years of absolute infatuation, first time kisses and first time fucks. Nights spent holding hands under a canopy of shimmering stars and promises of forever and ever ‘til death do us part. Sometimes, his life in the complex is filled with so much agony and blackness that he forgets all the love he’s been blessed with, all the hearts that he’s touched.

 

“I want you to make me a promise. Promise me that you’ll follow him.”

 

“What?”

 

“When it all goes down, I want you to promise me that you’re going to follow him when he leaves. He’s going to take care of you.”

 

Jiyong is bewildered. The fact that Youngbae seems to be finally accepting Seung Hyun should be making him unbearably happy. But there’s something behind his friend’s words that is leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

 

“I want you to make sure Seungri goes with you.”

 

And that’s when Jiyong knows. Tears sting at his eyes and he all but jumps from the bed, stands in the middle of the room and points his shaking finger at Youngbae.

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?" Jiyong snarls. "We’re _all_ going. We’re all fucking going.”

 

Youngbae doesn’t respond. He just stares at Jiyong through those melancholy eyes that Jiyong used to idolize.

 

“No,” Jiyong cries. “No, you selfish, selfish son of a bitch. Don’t you fucking dare do something heroic and self-sacrificing like some sort of fucking martyr. You’re not a martyr, Youngbae!”

 

He is. Jiyong knows he is. It’s one of the things he hates and loves most about his friend.

 

Jiyong runs his hands through his hair and he's so furious that it's suddenly hard to even breathe properly.

 

“What about Seungri? You see what’s happening to him. He’s barely holding it together, what do you think is going to happen if you’re not around?”

 

It’s a low blow, bringing up Seungri’s fragile mental state, but Jiyong is desperate.

 

“You and Seung Hyun will take care of him. I trust you.”

 

“You promised me!” Jiyong screams. “You promised me that we’d always be together. You fucking liar!”

 

Youngbae is silent but he stands from the bed and walks closer to Jiyong.

 

“You’re my brother! There's no me without you, I need you. How can you even think of--of...what are you even planning? Tell me.”

 

Youngbae shakes his head and Jiyong had never wanted to punch someone more in his life.

 

“It’s going to kill Seungri, you know that, right? He loves you so much, Youngbae. He’s so crazy about you and you’re just going to abandon him. After everything he’s done for you. Everything he’s lost for you. You’re just going to throw him away.”

 

“He’s never going to let both of us go.”

 

Jiyong halts his raging as Youngbae’s words register. He means their master.

 

“There are too many guards and too few of us. We’re only going to get so far.”

 

“So what are you gonna do?” Jiyong asks, giving up the ghost and embracing Youngbae tightly.

 

“If I tell you, you’ll try to stop me,” Youngbae chuckles fondly at Jiyong’s ear, like he isn't talking about his own possible demise. “Don’t worry, Jiyong, I’ll be fine. I always pull through.”

 

“Youngbae,” Jiyong mourns, arms wrapped around the other’s waist. “Why does it have to be you?”

 

Youngbae pulls back from their embrace. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Jiyong, you’re strong but you’re not invincible. So I want you to be careful, okay. Watch out for Seungri and watch out for yourself and follow that awkward lumbering oaf you call a boyfriend until it’s all over.”

 

Jiyong smiles despite himself.

 

“No matter what happens, don’t turn back. Just keep going.”

 

Jiyong only nods because he knows Youngbae won’t let it go. Once Youngbae has his mind set on something, there is no stopping him.

 

“Youngbae,” comes the strangled cry from the other room. Seungri is awake and needy.

 

“I’ve gotta go,” Youngbae says, pecking a simple kiss on Jiyong’s tear-stained cheek.

 

“No matter what happens, don’t leave Seungri and don’t turn back,” he whispers in his ear and before Jiyong can even respond, he’s already gone.

 

Jiyong climbs back into bed, a wave of exhaustion coming over him. He leans his head against the wall that he shares with Youngbae’s cell and listens to the muffled sounds of comfort and love coming from the other side. He wonders bitterly why the hell Youngbae thinks that he needs to take on the weight of the world on his shoulders.

 

Why can he never share the burden?

 

There’s so much he wants to say to Youngbae, mostly he wants to chain him to a wall and keep him from doing something stupid, but his words are repeating in his head.

 

There _are_ too many guards. There _are_ too few experienced battle slaves.  Maybe someone _does_ have to do something drastic to even the odds.

 

But it still begs the question: why does it have to be Youngbae?

 

  


	15. Chapter 15

  
  


The training room is packed. Muscled shoulders bump uncomfortably, toes are stepped on and a couple of scuffles are broken up by fellow slaves.

 

Seung Hyun has never seen so many slaves in one location. All of the slaves fighting in the tournament, even the ones from different masters, are gathered here. He looks out at the sea of faces and he doesn’t see mindless killers ready to fight a moment’s notice. He sees young boys, trembling in fear and often snapping at each other under pressure. He sees a few older battle slaves that have been lucky enough to survive this long, a bone-crushing exhaustion evident on their wrinkled faces.

 

They are just people.

 

Seung Hyun runs a hand through his hair nervously, takes a few deep breaths. If everything is going according to plan, Chaerin should have created a big enough commotion to distract all of her father’s guards and keep them in the mansion. They only have a precious few minutes.

 

Seung Hyun moves to the back of the room and meets Daesung. The spy smiles--Seung Hyun wonders if his smiles are meant to comfort others or himself--as he nods and gives the signal to lock the main door.

 

A panic breaks out among the slaves and a nervous buzzing goes through the crowd.

 

They quiet down immediately once Jiyong’s struts out onto a wide platform with such purpose that he makes it look like a stage.

 

“Listen up,” he shouts, and silence falls over the crowd.

 

Jiyong lets the silence build, he meets eyes with everyone in the crowd before he slowly brings his hands to his hips.

 

“We didn’t start this. I want you to always remember that. _They_ started this. _They_ stole our freedom.”

 

As he talks, he walks along the stage, eyes bright with a ferocity that Seung Hyun has only seen from him in battle. He’s striking and beautiful--the words that fall from his lips are nothing but the truth and even Seung Hyun, who is as far from wronged in this situation as possible, can feel the adrenaline flowing through his blood. “They kidnapped us from our homes under the cover of night because we were pretty and poor. They set fire to our homes and our people because they didn’t understand our culture. They raised us to think we were nothing more than property.”

 

Seung Hyun’s eyes drift to the two figures standing behind Jiyong. Youngbae’s face is bowed, eyes closed as if in silent prayer but Seungri’s chin is raised, his eyes pour out hatred and anger as his chest rises and falls rapidly, in tune with Jiyong’s wrathful words.

 

“They have taken away everything we ever loved--killed our families and sullied our dignity and you know what? It’s _still_ not enough. It’s still not enough for them. Now, they throw swords at us and tell us to slaughter each other while they watch, sipping their wine and basking in their power.”

 

Jiyong walks to the edge of the platform and crouches down, lowers his voice a bit. The entire crowd leans in, as if he’s sharing a secret. “Well, I for one think they’ve made their last mistake. I’m pretty fucking goddamn sick and tired of being used for fucking entertainment! Are you?”

 

The crowd roars in agreement. Jiyong has them in the palm of his hand. He waits until they quiet down to stand back up. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting their energy wash over him before he speaks again. Louder. Clearer.

 

“I think we should take those fucking weapons and turn them against our true enemy. Look around you. There’s not a single enemy in this room. We are all on the same side and tomorrow we are going to show them that we are not their playthings, we are not beaten, and most of all, we are not _fucking_ slaves!”

 

The crowd goes wild. They pump their arms in the air and scream like it’s their last night on Earth. For most of them, it is.

 

“So what do you want us to do?” a voice calls from the crowd. Youngbae makes his way slowly to the front of the stage, his gait as slow and careful as when he steps onto the arena. Seungri is not far behind.

 

“What do I want you to do, you ask? It's very simple,” Jiyong asks, smile feral and eyes dark with power.

 

Youngbae looks out over the crowd deliberately. They have gone quiet in the face of his intimidating presence.

 

When Jiyong speaks, his voice is even and calm, no need to raise his volume because the crowd has gone so silent you could hear a pin drop. “Destroy them all.”

 

The speech is over because the crowd has gone so wild that they are impossible to contain. It’s years of torture and pain--of being kicked in the face and told to stand up again--finally coming to a head. Jiyong has just given these men a glimmer of hope in the never-ending darkness of their lives and Seung Hyun looks on, proud as hell that the broken man he met just a short while ago has become a fearless leader. What Seung Hyun has always known him to be.

 

A dragon, indeed.

 

From across the room, Jiyong catches his gaze and smirks in triumph. Seung Hyun’s breath catches in his throat because even from such a great distance, even though they stand on opposite sides of life itself, Jiyong’s eyes still shine like morning stars just for him.

 

* * *

 

 

In the night, Jiyong is keening, squirming underneath Seung Hyun so unabashedly, so unhinged, so unlike the feral creature he was when they first met.

 

“Oh,” he purrs in Seung Hyun’s ear, “that feels so good.”

 

It doesn’t matter that they are in Jiyong’s dingy cell, that there’s a thick humidity in the air because there’s a leak somewhere in the pipes, that Jiyong’s bed creaks with each move of their bodies.

 

The only thing that matters is Jiyong.

 

Jiyong and his fire and his bare legs wrapped around Seung Hyun’s waist and the way he makes Seung Hyun forget everything he’s ever learned. The way he teaches him to love without even knowing it.

 

“Jiyong,” Seung Hyun says, trying to stop himself from fucking the willing slave by zipping up his pants again. He still wants their first time to be far, far away from here.

 

“I have something for you,” he says, hoping his small gift will be a good enough distraction because he really wants to pound Jiyong into the mattress but his morals just won’t let him.

 

Jiyong sits up, an amused smile on his face because he knows how much Seung Hyun wants him. He knows, and he thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world.

 

Seung Hyun goes over to the suit jacket Jiyong tore off of him in their hurried attempt to feel as much of each other as possible. He reaches into the inside pocket and pulls out a bronze cuff, ancient and etched with blessings in a language thought long-dead. He goes back to the bed.

 

Jiyong gasps as his slender fingers run over the metal, not daring to take it from Seung Hyun’s hands. He looks like a child and Seung Hyun’s chest fills up at the sight.

 

“Do you know what this is?” Jiyong asks, his voice filled with awe.

 

“You wear it during battle, right? It’s supposed to protect you.”

 

Jiyong hesitantly reaches out and takes the cuff from Seung Hyun. Snaps it shut around his right wrist. “How did you even find this? I thought they burned everything--”

 

“Not everything,” Seung Hyun says, voice raw as he brings his hand to stroke Jiyong’s cheek. The way the warrior slave smiles and leans into the touch is still novel to Seung Hyun. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of Jiyong’s soft skin and soft eyes. His soft heart.

 

“I love you,” Seung Hyun finds himself saying, even though he’s told himself a million times that he needs to wait, that Jiyong still needs time.

 

There’s no more time, though. Tomorrow, they all might die.

 

Jiyong just stares, expression unreadable and since Seung Hyun’s never been good with awkward silences, he keeps talking. Keeps confessing.

 

“I tried to write you a poem about it. The words came out all wrong, though, and I couldn’t get it to be perfect. There’s a million little reasons why I love you but the only one that came to my head when I was trying to write it is that you are the truth.”

 

Jiyong sucks in a sharp breath and Seung Hyun’s not sure if it’s a good sign but it’s much too late now to stop talking. “You are the only honest thing I’ve ever known. You’ve never lied to me, you’ve never been anything other than yourself. I--I admire you, Jiyong. I admire you and I love you.”

 

Seung Hyun is on his back before he even realizes it. He stares up at Jiyong, his pink bow of a mouth hovering mere inches from his. Jiyong’s stunning face fills up Seung Hyun’s sight and everything in his world and he thinks that if this is his last night alive, there’s no one he’d rather spend it with.

 

“I love you, too,” Jiyong whispers, his eyes shut tight as if the words physically hurt him. When he opens them again, there's that fire in his eyes, the one that made Seung Hyun fall for him. “But don’t you dare get complacent on me because tall, dark and handsome is easy to find and I’ll get rid of you the moment you step out of line, you understand?”

 

Seung Hyun grins. He’d never expect a mushy love confession from his fierce warrior.

 

“Okay,” Seung Hyun agrees. “God, you’re perfect.”

 

Jiyong’s smile is luminous even in the darkness of his cell. He kisses his way down Seung Hyun’s body, unzips his pants again and takes his throbbing length into his mouth. He is quick and impatient, just like Seung Hyun knows him to be. His eyes roll back in his head and he tries to keep calm even though Jiyong’s warm mouth is making a mockery of his efforts.

 

His hand hovers by Jiyong’s face; Seung Hyun’s not brave enough to grab at his hair and pull at it, like he wants to. He thinks Jiyong might just let him and if he does, Seung Hyun won’t be able to control himself anymore.

 

Seeming to read his thoughts, Jiyong pulls off his cock with a wet pop and looks up at him, gaze heavy and intense. “Can you just stop holding back? Just for tonight. Please.”

 

Seung Hyun smiles and nods. Maybe giving in a little bit won’t be too bad.

 

Jiyong takes Seung Hyun into his mouth again, and this time, Seung Hyun moans, low in his throat. He lets his hands thread into Jiyong’s blonde hair and his hips thrusts experimentally. Jiyong doesn’t choke. He takes more of him in, and when Seung Hyun feels the tip of his cock hit the back of his throat, he thinks he might die.

 

He uses his hold on Jiyong’s head to fuck his mouth and the warrior lets him, makes desperate groaning noises like he’s enjoying it, too.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Seung Hyun sighs involuntarily and Jiyong pulls off and smiles, his lips shiny with precome and saliva and sin. He’s fucking gorgeous.

 

“That’s the idea,” he says, reaching over Seung Hyun to grab something from the shabby table by his bed. He straddles Seung Hyun’s waist, his own length hangs heavy between them.

 

“Jiyong,” Seung Hyun manages to say, even though his mind is screaming to just lie back and take any and all intimacy that Jiyong wants to give him.

 

“Don’t you dare try to stop me, Seung Hyun,” Jiyong warns, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve actually wanted this? Since I’ve actually trusted someone enough to let them fuck me?”

 

“I know but--”

 

“Just stop talking,” Jiyong shushes, his tone much more tender than his words. “Just shut up and stop thinking so much. You think too much.”

 

Seung Hyun has more words of protest but he’s unable to get any of them out of his mouth because Jiyong is reaching behind himself and thrusting his own fingers in and out, making little whimpering noises that Seung Hyun wants to keep forever. He’s content to sit back and watch, but his hands itch to touch. So he does.

 

He reaches up his hands and cups Jiyong’s face, leans up to kiss him deeply and decides to give up his crusade for morality. Morals are for fools anyway. Fools with a future.

 

If Jiyong wants to see him lose control, then that’s exactly what he’s going to give him. “Does it feel good, Jiyong? Preparing yourself for my cock?”

 

He reaches between Jiyong’s legs and pushes in his finger along with Jiyong’s. “I think you’re going to need more than that,” Seung Hyun teases, making sure to drop his voice a timbre because he’s definitely noticed Jiyong’s reactions to his deep voice.

 

“Oh my god,” Jiyong whines, when Seung Hyun crooks his finger at just the right angle and reaches up to stroke him at the same time.

 

Seung Hyun is close to thinking Jiyong is going to let him take control but the slave just pushes his shoulder back, presses him flat to the bed and lowers himself, torturously slow onto his cock. Seung Hyun can do nothing but hold on to Jiyong’s hips and hope he doesn’t pass out.

 

When Jiyong starts to move his hips, his movements are shaky. Seung Hyun’s about to ask him if it hurts and if they should stop but Jiyong lets out this sound--this ungodly groan that makes Seung Hyun feel like he’s lost his mind--and starts snapping his hips faster.

 

He’s so tight, the heat that envelops Seung Hyun is overwhelming and the way Jiyong’s hands are slippery with sweat and clenched against Seung Hyun’s broad chest is too much. Jiyong’s eyes are wide open, staring into Seung Hyun’s very soul and the free man isn’t going to close his eyes and miss a second of this.

 

“There,” Jiyong pants, “Right there, _oh fuck_.”

 

So Seung Hyun tightens his grip and fucks up into Jiyong, aiming at _right there_ until the warrior slave slides his hand down Seung Hyun’s torso and onto his own cock. He strokes himself until he spills all over Seung Hyun’s stomach and all Seung Hyun can do when he feels Jiyong’s heat tightening around him is come, harder than ever before, inside of him.

 

Jiyong collapses onto him gracelessly and Seung Hyun wraps his arms around the warrior.

 

“Probably not the best thing to do before a big battle, right?” he says against Jiyong’s ear, savoring the way the slave shivers.

 

“I think it’s the perfect thing to do,” comes the breathless reply.

 

They hold each other for only fifteen minutes. Just fifteen. Seung Hyun counts the minutes on his gold watch.

 

Then, Seung Hyun has to go. He doesn’t want to, he wants to fall asleep in Jiyong’s arms and never wake up, but he has to go. There's work to do. Jiyong leads him to the cell door. Raps his knuckles in the secret code that lets Daesung know to come.

 

“Thank you,” Jiyong whispers, when Seung Hyun holds him tight and can't seem to let go. “For everything.”

 

Seung Hyun buries his nose in Jiyong's hair and breathes in deep, tries to hold back the sob rising in his throat.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Seung Hyun says, the words meaning so much more than just a simple goodbye.

  
“Tomorrow,” Jiyong affirms, and he tears himself out of Seung Hyun’s arms.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

Seungri hasn’t slept.

 

When he sleeps, he dreams, and when he dreams he hurts Youngbae.

 

He’s not going to spend his last hours of life hurting the only person that matters.

 

Seungri has been watching him all night, watched the sunrise and how the rising light changed the shadows on Youngbae’s features. He reaches out, gingerly touches the fading bruises around Youngbae’s neck. He hates himself for being the cause.

 

Youngbae looks so young when he sleeps. Seungri has never asked him how old he is; he’s always assumed that the warrior is a few years older but he’s never thought to ask. It didn’t seem important.

 

He thinks now of all the questions he’s never asked Youngbae. He’s never asked him what his favorite color is or if he likes to dance or how he got the scar on his kneecap--the one that’s much too old and faded to have been from his enslavement.

  


He wonders if after today, he’ll still get the chance to ask.

  


The plan is dangerous. The plan is flawed. The plan requires a whole lot of blind faith and dumb luck.

  


But the plan is their only chance.

  


Youngbae stirs. His eyes blink rapidly as he brings his fists to his eyes, rubbing away the sleep.

  


He doesn’t greet Seungri good morning. It isn’t one.

  


Youngbae reaches out when he notices Seungri’s hands are still lingering at his neck. He kisses his hands, the same hands that have almost choked the life out of him countless times. He forgives Seungri. He always does.

  


“It’s alright, baby,” Youngbae says and pulls Seungri close to him.

 

Seungri doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words invented yet for what Seungri feels for Youngbae and even if there were, it’s too early in the day for sorrowful goodbyes.

 

Seungri knows that Youngbae is going to sacrifice himself. He knows that like he knows his own heartbeat, knows that ever since the warrior reluctantly agreed to their hare-brained scheme he was never planning on escaping with the rest.

 

Youngbae doesn’t think he knows and Seungri prefers to keep it that way. Sometimes, the truth is too hard. Sometimes, it’s better to pretend.

 

Seungri slips on his mask of ignorance and snuggles closer to Youngbae’s chest. Kisses the ink that adorns his skin lightly.

 

“Youngbae, I want you inside me,” Seungri says, because even though it hurts, he does.

 

Youngbae shakes his head. They’ve tried to make love again since Seungri was attacked. But it’s been too much for the younger slave and Youngbae hadn’t even gotten close to hard because the way Seungri shuddered and cried out beneath him was repulsive.

 

“You need more time,” Youngbae says as his hands make their way up and down Seungri’s back soothingly.

 

“We don’t have any more time,” Seungri pleads, lifting himself up to look down at his warrior. “Please, Youngbae.”

 

Youngbae complies. He changes their position so that he is on top. Seungri gets lost in the sensation of his deep kisses and soft sighs. They’ve never taken it this slow; usually frantic, playful fucking is their favorite way to go about this, but it’s not about release this time. It’s about the journey.

 

It takes Seungri a while to become erect, aroused by Youngbae and his talented tongue. It takes Youngbae nine minutes before he’s satisfied that Seungri is prepared enough. It takes an agonizing ten seconds for Youngbae to bury himself to the hilt inside Seungri.

 

He doesn’t move until Seungri urges him with a well-placed heel and a whisper in his ear.

 

Youngbae moves slow. He undulates his hips more than he thrusts and most of his effort is going into kissing every part of Seungri’s face. Seungri is grateful for the restraint and tenderness. He tries not to close his eyes because that would just remind him of the darkness that enveloped him when they violated him and it would just ruin everything.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Youngbae whispers as Seungri tries not to break down. “So beautiful, so perfect and I am just so, so lucky.”

 

“I wish I was a woman,” Seungri says, tears stinging at his eyes. Youngbae stops.

 

“What? What are you talking about?”

 

“I wish I was a woman so that I could keep a part of you with me forever.”

 

So much for pretending.

 

Youngbae’s smile is fractured when he leans down and kisses the side of Seungri’s face. “I’m going to be fine.”

 

Seungri nods, even though he doesn’t believe him. Words are useless now. They’ve got only a few hours before the tournament begins. “Saranghae,” Seungri says.

 

“I love you, too,” Youngbae sighs as he leans up and begins fucking him again.

 

It takes much longer than usual for both of them. Seungri thinks that even their bodies know what’s coming and they don’t want to part.

 

Seungri comes first--the orgasm catches him by surprise and he arches his back, eyes shut tight because _oh_ , he’d forgotten how good that felt.

 

Youngbae pulls out and Seungri finishes him off with his hand. He doesn’t seem relieved when he comes.

 

They stay in each other’s arms for a long time and Seungri doesn’t find it in himself to wish that they could avoid the impending doom. Wishing never changed a thing.

  
He extricates himself from Youngbae’s arms and goes to the corner of the cell. Picks up Youngbae’s battle armor. He helps his warrior put it on, for the last time.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

Daesung is fucking pumped. He’s been waiting for this for _years_.

 

The slaves are all gathered inside the Master’s house, brimming with a nervous energy that Daesung is just feeding off of.

 

It was Chaerin that convinced her father to make the tournament smaller, more exclusive. Quality, not quantity. It won’t take place in the large arena; it will be in the mansion.

 

Mistake number one: The place is a maze, easy to get lost in and even easier to hide in.

 

Because the battles will be held in an unusual location, the guards have to help with crowd control for the upper class instead of the just slaves. They are on double duty and stretched thin. Some guards don’t even have their weapons, as it’s considered rude to hold one too close to a free man.

 

Mistake number two: They are underestimating the danger.

 

The slaves are all gathered in a waiting area while the wealthy take their seats. The master had stadium style seating installed for the big event and only a select few will be seated in the balcony that overlooks the platform where the slaves are meant to fight.

 

Mistake number three: The slaves are close to the guests. Very close.

 

Due to the more intimate nature of the tournament, there’s not enough space to hold the weapons in storage before they are used for the battles. The slaves have the weapons in their hands now, before the tournament even begins.

 

They trust the slaves too much. They trust that their years of beating them down every time they tried to rise up have worked. They trust that fear and intimidation will always win.

 

They don’t know about suffering and how a lifetime of it can harden you, make you tenacious and magnificent.

 

Daesung clutches the only picture he has of Minzy--a black and white photograph, folded a thousand times over, frayed and damaged at the ends. He looks into her pixelated smile one last time before he folds it up again, tucks it into his chest armor. Next to his heart.

 

A small smile plays upon his lips and he thinks that it’s about time they learn about the human spirit and how it can defy all the odds.

  


* * *

 

Seungri is standing in front of his two warriors, sizing them up, fussing with their armor. Anxiety is a stone in his stomach and he thinks that if he can just get Youngbae’s shoulder strap to just stay down--

 

“Seungri,” Youngbae says as his hand grabs his wrist gently. “Leave it, it’s fine.”

 

Seungri sighs and lets his hands fall to his side.

 

“Do you remember what I told you?”

 

Seungri rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “Stay by Seung Hyun and grab a sword when I can.”

 

Youngbae smiles. He toys a bit with the weapon they gave him, a well-crafted, double-sided spear. Seungri watches him test out the weight of it like an expert and he thinks that Jiyong’s sob story about how they weren’t warriors before they were slaves might have been bullshit.

 

Jiyong smiles at him. “Maknae, you be careful out there, alright?”

 

Seungri nods and hugs him tight. “Not goodbye, just see you later,” Jiyong promises. Seungri thinks he’s crazy enough to mean it.

 

He leaves Seungri and Youngbae and goes to Daesung for a moment, no doubt to ask him if Seung Hyun is out in the crowd, if he looks alright. And to give Seungri and Youngbae some privacy.

 

Seungri turns back to Youngbae. Decides to be brave one last time. “I know you think that freedom is not belonging to anyone. But I think you’re wrong. I think freedom is being able to choose who you belong to.”

 

He holds Youngbae’s chin in his hand. Forces him to meet his eyes. “I _choose_ to belong to you. I know I can’t change your mind. I know that you’re going to do what you think you have to do.”

 

Youngbae’s eyes shimmer with emotion and he bites his bottom lip.

 

Seungri continues. “All I ask is that whatever you’re going to do, you do it right. You get the job done.”

 

Youngbae kisses him abruptly, probably to stop him from talking because the way the warrior’s eyes are watering, it seems he can’t take any more. But Seungri’s never been one to shy away from confrontation.

 

He pulls back, just a few inches, just enough that only Youngbae will be able to hear his next words. “And if you can, come back to me.”

 

Youngbae nods. “If I can,” he whispers, another one of his fragile promises. “I’ll come back to you.”

 

They kiss one last time, lips brushing softly as they share the taste of salty tears between them. Seungri tears himself away before he breaks down completely and start pleading for everyone to just stop this stupid plan and let him keep Youngbae. He’ll take any torture, any violation, he’ll tear himself inside out if it means he gets to come back to the warrior’s cell and have him put him back together again.

 

But Seungri wipes the tears away and inhales deeply. He doesn’t break down. He doesn’t flinch because he’s part of something much bigger than himself and his own selfish desires. He’s got a plan to carry out. He finally feels strong enough to pull through.

 

His heart is breaking but he walks out of the waiting area with his head held high and his fists clenched. Ready for war.

 

* * *

 

Jiyong stands at the head of the crowd at the waiting area, riling them up with well-timed furious words. He’s got them, and he knows it.

 

It’s mostly a cover for how desperate he feels, though. From the corner of his eye, he sees Seungri and Youngbae’s tearful goodbye--the first time he’s ever seen tears in his friend’s eyes--and the fear starts gnawing at his stomach again. It is almost a live creature, clawing at his insides, trying to overpower him.

 

He fears for his own life. Before, he used to survive because him and Youngbae were a team and he had made a promise. But now, everything is different. In just a short amount of time, his world has been forever altered.

 

It all began with Seungri’s lovely smile and the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Youngbae.

 

Now, Jiyong wants to survive because he’s got a family, ragged and thrown-together as they are. He’s got Daesung--the gentle and protective friend he’d never even realized had been helping him time and time again. He’s got Seungri--beautiful and enticing, even in his descent into madness. He’s got Youngbae--the only living relic of his home and his kindred spirit, a bond that runs deeper than blood.

 

And he’s got someone to call his own. There is a strange heart beating just for him on the other side of these walls and for the first time in a very, very long time, Jiyong has hope.

 

He believes in Seung Hyun. He believes him when he says he loves him, he believes in his ideas about freedom and equality and above of all, he believes him when he says he’s going to do everything he can to make sure the plan works.

 

Jiyong has his family and he’s got hundreds of tired slaves who are looking to him to guide them out of perdition. He’s not going to let them down. He’ll never forgive himself.

 

It’s time.

 

The large doors are being opened by the guards and all Jiyong has to do is give the signal, say the word. Countless pairs of eyes land on him, waiting for his command, but Jiyong is only human and he freezes.

 

He catches Youngbae’s gaze from across the room. As if reading his mind, Youngbae manages a thin smile before he raises the spear in hand high above his head. Saves Jiyong one last time.

 

“Slaves,” he shouts, so that Jiyong doesn’t have to. “Fight!”

 

Mayhem ensues.

  


* * *

 

Seung Hyun has been waiting anxiously for the slaves to enter the fighting area. He’s sitting up on the balcony with Seungri at his side, blinking furiously as is his custom when he’s nervous. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy but he looks more unwavering than Seung Hyun’s ever seen him. He remembers that the boy at his side has been taught by the two fiercest warriors alive. He doesn’t fear for him.

 

He does, however, feel like every one of his nerves are abuzz with electricity and he just wants this part to be over. The waiting.

 

It doesn’t take long.

 

A loud cry rings out above the din of voices and suddenly, they all come. A wave of lionhearted battle slaves rushes at the crowd, various weapons used to plunge into the bodies of their tormentors. It’s the very picture of divine retribution.

 

It’s terrible.

 

It’s revolting, the way sharp swords, large hammers and long spears tear through human flesh like paper. The slaves have no mercy. They don’t spare anyone.

 

Cries of pain and savagery inundate his senses. Seung Hyun looks around him, pretends to be as scared and confused as everyone else. The scared part is true, though.

 

Jiyong’s master looks to him.

 

“What’s happening?” Jiyong’s master cries. “What the hell is happening?”

 

Seung Hyun thinks it’s pretty obvious.

 

* * *

 

Jiyong’s scimitar slices off the hand of a guard. An upward motion buries the sharp, curved end in his chest so deep, Jiyong has to use his boots to hold the lifeless body down while he pulls out the weapon. The light catches the bronze cuff adorning his right wrist.

 

He feels like a god, immortal and righteous.

 

He is drunk with the bloodshed that surrounds him. It takes him minutes to notice that the tide is turning.

 

They’re on the losing end.

 

The element of surprise only lasted for so long. Now, the guards have caught on and they have better weapons.

 

Slaves are dying all around him now.

 

A thick boot knocks him to the ground. The scimitar flies out of his hand, too far out of reach. The guard looks down at him, hatred in his stare as he raises his sword, preparing to plunge it into Jiyong.

 

The warrior slave closes his eyes. Waits for the inevitable.

 

The blow never comes.

 

When Jiyong opens his eyes, the guard is slumped on the ground. He looks up into the balcony and sees Seung Hyun, crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, classy piece of shit to the end. He winks at Jiyong as he loads the next arrow into his crossbow.

 

Jiyong vows to marry him when this is all over.

 

And it will be over soon.

 

Because Seung Hyun’s archers are here.

 

* * *

 

Seungri’s done exactly as he was told.

 

Well, maybe not exactly. Maybe he didn’t wait until the rest of Seung Hyun’s archers had arrived before knocking out a guard with his elbow and taking his sword. Maybe he didn’t wait to start using everything Jiyong taught him about how to swing his sword to start slaughtering people in the balcony.

 

Seungri’s a lot of things but patient has never been one of them.

 

He _has_ stayed with Seung Hyun, though, mostly because with a crossbow as his weapon, it’s hard for him to watch his back and he needs Seungri.

 

They are making their way through the halls of the mansion, leaving death and devastation in their wake, searching for Jiyong.

 

Daesung stumbles out of one of the rooms, carrying Chaerin's tiny limp body in his arms.

 

“Shit,” Seung Hyun grits out, handing Seungri his crossbow so that he can help Daesung with the body.

 

“She’s alright,” Daesung says, voice oddly soft and calm. “Just passed out. I’ve got her.”

 

Seungri notices the spy has a deep gash on his head, blood flows freely down his face.

 

“You’re bleeding,” Seungri says, stepping closer to them.

 

Daesung frowns. “Am I?”

 

Seung Hyun takes Chaerin from his arms. Seungri knows their conversation continues but he’ll never know what was said because he hears a voice.

 

A voice that has been haunting his nightmares for too long.

 

Jihoon stands behind them, finger pointed at them. “You animals!” he shrieks.

 

Seungri _knows_ that voice. They attacked him in the dark but they didn't do it in silence. Seungri wants nothing more than to destroy that voice.

 

He drops Seung Hyun’s crossbow and picks up his bloodied sword.

 

He chases after Jihoon.

 

* * *

 

Youngbae has been mostly avoiding conflicts when he can. He can’t afford to get caught up in a fight when he’s got a much more important thing to do.

 

Seung Hyun and his archers turn the tide of the battle but the guards still outnumber them. They are still mostly in the main fighting area and if Youngbae doesn’t move fast, he’ll miss his chance.

 

He fights his way back to the fighting area, snatches up a torch before stepping back inside. His eyes scan the area carefully. He doesn’t see Seung Hyun, Daesung or Jiyong. No Seungri, either.

 

He sets his spear and torch down in a corner and gets to work.

 

Youngbae hears the panic and confusion in the guards’ voices when the they hear the sounds of the first door shutting. A random slave looks to him in fear and Youngbae tells him to get out.

 

“Grab as many slaves as you can and get out of here. _Now_.”

 

He runs to the other side to get to the other door.

 

His plan has always been to lock as many of the slaveowners and guards in the main fighting area as possible. And set the house on fire.

 

When he finally closes the last door, he grabs his torch and throws it onto the balcony. Watches the flames begin to lick at the curtains. He sighs.

 

Youngbae feels so unreasonably, bone-crushingly tired. He’s covered in blood and sweat and body fluids he doesn’t even want to think of but it’s over. His work is done.

 

The last thing he sees before a blow knocks him unconscious is Seungri’s smile.

 

The last thought he has, before the blackness takes over, is that he hopes one day, his boy will forgive him.

 

* * *

 

When Jiyong finds Seung Hyun, Daesung and Chaerin, the first thing he feels is relief.

 

Next, blinding anger.

 

“Where the _fuck_ is Seungri?”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. He was right behind me and suddenly, he was gone.” Seung Hyun’s eyes express his apologies but it’s not enough.

 

“What about Youngbae?”

 

“Oh that’s right,” Daesung says suddenly. “That’s where I was going. I think he’s confused. I saw him running the opposite way.”

 

“What?” Jiyong cries.

 

“He was running back towards the big room,” Daesung’s eyes have trouble focusing as he tries to get the words out.

 

“We’ve got to get him out of here, I think he has a concussion,” Seung Hyun grits out, panic in his usually calm voice.

 

“Why would he…” Jiyong trails off as the answer hits him. “He’s closing all the doors. He’s evening the odds. Fucking hell, he’s locking them up.”

 

Seung Hyun’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense, those doors can only be locked from the inside. If he locks them, then he’s--oh.”

 

Even in the commotion around him, even with the anger boiling inside, Jiyong still finds it in his heart to thank his friend.

 

Sends out a silent prayer to the god he never believed in and hopes the afterlife treats Youngbae better than this one.

 

* * *

 

_Come back to me._

 

Warm arms. Warm heart.

 

A song as sweet as the colors of the desert sky sunset.

 

_If you can, come back to me._

 

A voice calls him back, calls him away from the darkness.

 

_Come back to me, Youngbae._

 

Youngbae’s eyes open slowly and pain floods his entire body. Smoke stings at his eyes and he struggles to sit up. He realizes he’s not alone. Minho is sitting against the wall next to him, holding a long, thin body in his arms. Youngbae recognizes him as his friend, Jinwoo.

 

“How is he?” Youngbae asks, a migraine blooming in his skull.

 

“He’s dead,” Mihno replies evenly.

 

Youngbae sighs. “How long have you been holding him like that?”

 

“About as long as you’ve been passed out. I moved us to this corner after you closed all the doors.”

 

Youngbae feels a familiar guilt settle in his gut. Yet another life snuffed out by his hands.

 

“I’m sorry you got caught on this side,” Youngbae apologizes, even though he doesn’t think his apology matters.

 

“Don’t be,” Minho says. “It was a smart idea. Probably saved a lot of people, sir.”

 

Youngbae can see flames from his peripheral vision and he thinks that it’s oddly comforting that he won’t die alone. He reaches out and closes Jinwoo's lifeless eyes.

 

“Are you done resting?”

 

“What?”

 

Minho turns to look at him. “I don’t know about you, sir, but I’m not planning on burning to death.”

 

Youngbae looks up at the young warrior, holding his dead friend in his arms like love can bring him back to life. Maybe it can.

 

It worked for Youngbae. He had been prepared to lay down his life for the sake of everyone else, but his love just wouldn’t let him die. He was so close, wrapped in death’s cold embrace, but Seungri just wouldn’t let him go.

 

Stubborn bastard.

 

“What’s the plan, Minho?”

 

Minho’s answering smile is fierce. “There’s a window. Twenty foot drop. Figured we’d get to practice some of those forward rolls you taught me.”

 

Youngbae smirks. “Sounds impossible.”

 

Minho chuckles. “I know you like shit like that, sir.”

 

Youngbae does.

 

* * *

 

Daesung sees them first. They don’t believe him initially, because his mind is hazy and they won’t let him just go to sleep like he wants to. He’s in Seung Hyun’s arms and he has to toss violently before they put him down on the ground and look back towards the house.

 

It’s gone up in flames.

 

And from those flames, Minho and Youngbae rise.

 

Jiyong sets Chaerin down on the ground carefully before running madly towards them.

 

“Youngbae,” he screams.

 

Youngbae’s eyes take note of the absent figure in their motley crew. He collapses into Jiyong’s arms as soon as they reach him. “Where’s Seungri?” he asks, voice hoarse from all the smoke he’s inhaled.

 

Jiyong doesn’t respond so Daesung does. “In the house, still.”

 

Youngbae starts to get up but Jiyong holds him tight. “No, no, no, you can’t go back there. It’s burning!”

 

Seung Hyun puts a hand on Jiyong’s arm. Helps Youngbae to get up.

 

“Take Daesung and Chaerin and keep walking,” he commands, voice gruff. “We’ll be back soon.”

 

“Are you crazy?” Jiyong screams again and Daesung really wishes he would stop doing that.

 

“He was my responsibility,” Seung Hyun says by way of explanation. “Besides, I think I know where he might be.”

 

They run off before Jiyong can finish protesting and he curses and curses, shouts up at the darkening sky and Daesung thinks that if this is his plan for keeping him awake, it’s brilliant.

 

* * *

 

Seung Hyun takes the brunt of Youngbae’s weight and helps him to walk as fast as possible, noticing that the shorter man can’t put too much of his weight on his right foot.

 

He takes them back into the smoke, back into where the battle still rages and coughs and screams still ring out. Youngbae thinks he knows where he’s being led to.

 

When they step into the inner courtyard, Youngbae’s heart seizes.

 

Seungri stands in the middle of the garden, the green foliage around him is bright and cheery compared to the gruesome scene. There are bodies _everywhere_. Guards, men and women lie lifeless, bodies bent at impossible angles and crimson stains the white marble.

 

Jihoon--or what remains of him--is among the dead.

 

Seungri is drenched in blood.

 

Youngbae realizes none of it is his own.

 

His beautiful face is set in a hideous grimace as he breathes deeply and evenly, two scimitars soaked in blood clutched in his hands.

 

When he catches Youngbae’s gaze, the warrior slave is transported back to the first time he let himself give in to the young slave. He had told him that he would destroy him but he never realized just how right he was.

 

Seungri was a healer, not a killer.

 

Seungri was innocent, not responsible for a massacre.

 

Seungri used to be a boy. Now he is a true warrior, like Youngbae.

 

And fearsome, too. Because when he looks into Youngbae’s eyes, there is no remorse in his stare. No apology. He is proud the way he murdered dozens of humans singlehandedly.

 

Youngbae feels his heart hammering in his chest as he wades through the bloodbath, careful not to step on the bodies as he makes his way closer to Seungri. He drops to his knees when he reaches him.

 

“I did it,” Seungri says. “I killed them all.”

 

Youngbae only brings his arms around Seungri’s waist and buries his face in Seungri’s stomach. Ignores the blood that stains his face and the stench of horror that fills his nose. He knows now, more than ever before, that Seungri will be the death of him.

 

It doesn’t matter. He can think of no better way to die than by the hands of this man.

  



	18. Epilogue

 

In the days that follow, there is grief.

 

Many slaves fell in the battle and in the escape, even more succumb to their injuries afterwards.

 

Months later, they find there is also hope.

 

The dwindling group of slaves makes its way towards the mountains, to meet the Rebellion.

 

They are Seung Hyun’s people. Free men and women who saw the injustice and fought to do something about it. They welcome the battle-weary slaves with open arms and much-needed medical attention.

 

Daesung recovers from his concussion. They thought they’d lost him for a little while there, but Chaerin stayed by his bedside and refused to leave until he awoke.

 

The first thing Daesung saw when he opened his eyes was Chaerin’s stunning face as she slept draped over him, peacefully. His heart skipped a beat for the first time in his life.

 

She’s going to help him look for Minzy and she’s taken to letting him hold her hand by the campfire. These are both very good things.

 

Jiyong makes good on his promise. He groans out a marriage proposal when he is buried deep inside Seung Hyun one night and the tall man accepts, even though, he later on lets Jiyong know that’s it is in very bad form to propose while having sex.

 

“You said yes, didn’t you?” Jiyong smiles wickedly, and Seung Hyun has to give it to him. He did.

 

They are married at dawn.

 

The ceremony is simple, just a priest, four other guests and the rising sun.

 

Still, Seung Hyun wears his obnoxious gold watch and Jiyong won’t stop teasing him about it during their vows.

 

“I love you even though you think that watch is a good idea. If I’m willing to forgive that, you must be very special.”

 

Laughter breaks out among the wedding guests. Seungri laughs the loudest.

 

He’s laughing again, and the sound is sweet and melodic, not the crazed echo of what it was in the days after the battle.

 

He still snaps when someone he doesn’t know gets too close to him and he’s particularly wary around Minho, who he _insists_ is too fond of Youngbae. But he sleeps the whole night through, no longer plagued by nightmares, and his gentle smile has returned. The hatred is seeping from his eyes, little by little. Day by day.

 

Youngbae is recovering from his injuries slowly, but surely. Seungri is healing him with his vast knowledge of physiology and his loving hands. His lips also have quite a bit of healing powers.

 

Seungri kisses him in the night, lips roaming an expanse of inked skin, taut muscle and raised scars and he whispers that he can’t believe Youngbae is still alive.

 

“I thought you were dead,” Seungri says again, even though they’ve had this conversation over and over again. “I thought you were gone.”

 

“I was,” Youngbae says, lowering his voice a bit because he knows this is Seungri’s favorite part and he loves the way he leans in to hear him say it. “But you brought me back.”

 

Seungri always lights up with a smile and kisses him senseless.

 

Jiyong and Seung Hyun take charge of running the Rebellion, like a capable general and his righthand man. There is still much progress to make for justice and equality. Seung Hyun is a tactical genius, which surprises no one, and Jiyong is a hero. Free men and former slaves bow to him respectfully wherever he goes. They are the perfect couple to lead the Rebellion, to help it grow. They are natural leaders, forged to perfection in times of strife.

 

They’ve also fucked in the strategy room dozens of times, but no one needs to know that.

 

Youngbae doesn’t want to fight. He and Seungri are going to the desert. He wants Seungri to see his home, the one that’s always been beating in his heart even when they dragged him away. He wants him to see the golden waves of sand and endless blue sky that Youngbae can still picture perfectly in his mind, a siren song that calls him home.

 

Jiyong and Seung Hyun are there to see them off. They’ve got cloaks and horses and Jiyong’s close to cracking a joke about how Youngbae needs to be more modern but this might be the last time he sees his friend for a long time. So he stows the joke. Saves it for later.

 

Seung Hyun claps a big hand on Youngbae’s shoulder. “Lay off that foot, alright. And the heroics, while you’re at it.”

 

Youngbae laughs, clear and strong and Jiyong realizes he hasn’t heard him laugh like that in years.

 

“I will. Thank you, Seung Hyun, for everything you’ve done.”

 

“And for taking Jiyong off our hands,” Seungri says as he comes up behind Youngbae and wraps his arms around his waist.

 

“You’re gonna miss me, maknae, don’t even pretend you won’t.”

 

“I’ll take a picture for you,” Youngbae tells Jiyong. “A really good one of the desert that you can hang on your ceiling. So you won't forget.”

 

Jiyong nods. Kisses him and Seungri on the forehead chastely. “Take care of yourselves.”

 

“You’re the ones running a secret organization meant to dismantle the foundations of society,” Seungri half-jokes. “We’re just taking a vacation.”

 

“If anyone’s going to get in trouble on a vacation, it’s you two,” Jiyong responds, but he laughs goodnaturedly.

 

They joke around for a long time in a thinly-veiled attempt to delay the inevitable. Some goodbyes aren’t permanent, but it doesn’t mean they’re not hard.

 

Youngbae is the first to clear his throat. Reminds them all that Daesung and Chaerin are waiting for them at the foot of the mountain and that if they don’t leave soon, they’ll lose precious daylight.

 

Later that night, Jiyong will cry himself to sleep in Seung Hyun’s arms, but for now, he waves enthusiastically at the silhouettes of Youngbae and Seungri with a wide smile on his face until he can't see their figures, even if he squints. Seung Hyun wraps his arm around Jiyong's shoulder and kisses the top of his head.

 

"Let's go home," he says, and Jiyong thinks that in Seung Hyun's embrace, he already is.

 

Seungri waits until their horses are trotting away from the encampment to let out a sniffle. Youngbae wraps their hands together and says, “I’m going to miss them, too.”

 

“It’s not that,” Seungri says, voice trembling with emotion. “This is the first time I’ve ever been able to leave a place without asking for permission or waiting for an order.”

 

When Youngbae looks at him, Seungri is smiling through his tears. He’s never looked more beautiful. “We’re really free.”

 

Youngbae grins and looks out at the lush landscape below them. The sun is shining behind them, warming their backs with the promise of tomorrow and the next day. Elation and relief floods through his system and it all hits Youngbae suddenly, a moment of perfect clarity to begin their new life.

 

“Yes,” he says, lips stretched into an uncontrollable smile. “We are.”

 

 


End file.
